Memories of Me
by M.R.H.I
Summary: Through a prank gone wrong, Draco and Harry are able to comprehend their feelings, but Draco has his family name to uphold, and Harry has an amnesia, so lies, decisions, poison, death are preventing them from finding peace together this dark, dark time.
1. The Incident

M e m o r i e s . o f . m e...  
  
* * ** * ** * *  
  
C.h.a.p.t.e.r.1 - the incident...  
  
//The wind rushed to his face, blowing his thick, dark hair backwards. He sped up, the Firebolt in his firmly gripped hands shot up a few dozens feet, bringing him farther from the ground of Hogwarts. He jerked his broom around, causing it to twirl with an amazing grace. The dark-haired boy smiled, his emerald eyes twinkling in the bright sunlight, and with a sudden change of mind he pointed the tip of his broom down to the ground, and soon both him and his Firebolt were speed-rocketing down to earth with an inhuman speed. Merely inches away from touching the ground, he brought his broom up to a jerk and made a breath-taking save. With a satisfied grin, the boy returned to fly casually around the Quidditch pitch, relaxing as he did.  
  
As if on instinct, he felt the hair behind his neck prickled, and turned around. Rushing towards him was a Bludger, fast and unstoppable. His eyes widened, and without time to move aside, the ball caught him full on the head.  
  
The hands holding the Firebolt loosened, and soon he was falling down to the ground, his body numbed with shock and pain.  
  
When he'd stopped falling, his body had felt like many shattered pieces. His head felt broken, and his chest hurt, as if a boulder was pressing him down, unable him from breathing. It was painful, his whole being throbbed as if thousands of needles were prickling him.  
  
Then he heard a voice. A distant, familiar voice in which he couldn't put his finger onto where he'd heard it before. With much effort and pain, he opened his eyes, and the last thing he saw was a pair of glowing silver before he passed out.//  
  
P.a.R.t.O.n.E.d.O.n.E  
  
He woke up, feeling queasy and foggy. His head ached, and his chest hurt whenever he breathed. The voices he had heard as he came out of his sleepiness stopped, as if sensing his movement. When his eyes slowly opened, there were many people all around him, their faces worried.  
  
"Harry!" a girl came over to him, her chestnut eyes filled with worries and relieves and tears. "Oh! You're awake!"  
  
He winced as she put her arms around him.  
  
"Hermione, you should let Harry rest," an old man said gently, his blue eyes twinkled, reflecting relief, also.  
  
The girl called Hermione quickly pulled away, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "Sorry, Harry. I'm just so happy you're awake..." she smiled suddenly, "but you're okay now. I'm so glad."  
  
A tall boy with red hair came over to her side, looking down at him with concern, like the rest of the people there. "Yeah, mate, you're okay now?"  
  
He looked around at all of them, blinking slowly. They were all smiling at him kindly, except for a greasy, tall man with a nasty look, waiting for him to speak. He opened his mouth, then shook his head, noticing that his voice wasn't working properly, and tried again.  
  
"Where am I?"  
  
The smiles faded, and worries filled their faces again.  
  
The red-haired boy came closer to him with hesitation. "Harry, mate, you feeling alright?"  
  
He looked up at the tall boy, curious. "Are you talking to me?"  
  
Hermione burst into tears, and the tall boy quickly embraced her.  
  
A short woman came over to his side, wearing a white dress. She looked slightly panicky, and touched his hand carefully. "Mr. Potter, do you know who I am?"  
  
He studied her face, there were lines on her forehead, and he chuckled quietly, seeing a small mold on the side of her temple. Then, after a moment, he shook his head. "Who are you?" he asked.  
  
A tall woman, thin and strict looking came towards. "Then do you remember who you are?"  
  
He paused, trying to think with his blank mind, and shook his head again.  
  
Hermione turned to him, her eyes red, and hold his hands in hers. "Harry, it's me, Hermione Granger, remember?"  
  
The name sounded awfully familiar to his ears, but where had he heard it before?  
  
"You keep calling me Harry," he stated quietly. "Is that my name?"  
  
Her lower lip trembled, and the tall boy had to pulled her into his arms again. "Ron, he doesn't remember," she sobbed.  
  
"It's okay, Hermione, we'll figure this out," the redhead said, looking over to the woman in the white dress. "Madame Pomfrey, can't you do anything?"  
  
The old man now spoke up, looking grave. "No, I'm afraid Madame Pomfrey cannot do anything. It appears that Harry has amnesia, and this is not a sickness or injury. We cannot do anything but wait to see if he will regain his memory loss."  
  
Ron looked at him, his blue eyes unhappy. "Do you remember anything at all, mate?"  
  
"No," he spoke softly, wondering why these people kept asking him the same question all over again.  
  
The guy named Ron suddenly looked angry, cracking his knuckles menacingly. "Malfoy! I'll kill him! I'll kill him! He's not going to get away from doing this to Harry!"  
  
Harry backed away without knowing why, his green eyes fearful.  
  
"Mr. Weasley!" the strict woman said sternly. "Keep your temper in control! This is the infirmary, not a battle ground! I do not tolerate that kind of behavior in front of a patient!"  
  
Madame Pomfrey nodded in agreement.  
  
"Sorry, Professor McGonagall," Ron muttered, then his eyes blazed with fierceness. "But I won't forgive Malfoy! I'll find him! That dirty little --"  
  
"I ask that you keep your mouth close in the meanwhile, or I will take points away for speaking unacceptable language," drawled the greasy-haired man.  
  
Ron glared at him.  
  
The old man stood up, and all attentions turned to him. "Severus, please call Mr. Malfoy to my office immediately. I will need to speak with him." His blue eyes were soft when they looked at him. "Rest, Harry. I will speak with you later."  
  
With that, the old man walked out, followed by the very nasty-temper man, whom he assumed was Severus.  
  
Everyone, to his very discomfort, looked at him again. Then Madame Pomfrey cleared her throat. "Enough for today, everyone. Mr. Potter needs rest. You can go now, that means you too, Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger," she added, seeing that they were about to protest.  
  
Professor McGonagall briskly walked out, after sending him a sympathetic look. Ron and Hermione reluctantly went, but not after Hermione bent down and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Ron put an arm around her, whispering comforting words as they went.  
  
Finally, he was able to be alone to himself, only to be confused more by those words they were saying.  
  
Who was he, and where was he? They said this was the infirmary, but why was he in the infirmary? He looked around at the room, desperate for an answer. How come he didn't remember anything? Who were those people? How come they were so worried about him?  
  
He lay down, his head was hurting him more as thoughts passed through his head in confusion. Eventually, he fell into a slumber, woken now and then just to see a few blurry sights in front of him.  
  
In his dreams there were flashes of people, green lights and slithering something in darkness. He tossed and turned, then, upon seeing a red-haired woman screaming, he woke up with a start.  
  
P.a.R.t.T.w.O.d.O.n.E  
  
He was sitting on the bed, a cup of water in his hands, watching the people there with interest. They all seemed to know him, waving their hands ans sending him a greeting now and then. All he could do was smile at them, hoping they would tell him who they were.  
  
Then Hermione and Ron came, and a bunch of other people, too.  
  
"Hey Harry, how are you feeling?" Hermione said, touching his forehead.  
  
"He doesn't have a fever, Hermione!" Ron said moodily, crossing his arms.  
  
He wondered why Ron was always so bad-tempered all the time. "I'm fine, thank you," he answered Hermione.  
  
A girl with red-hair came forth, looking worried. "Harry, it's me, Ginny," she said softly.  
  
"Ginny?" he cocked his head, trying to remember. "And I know you?" he asked hesitantly.  
  
Ginny looked as if she would cry, but she just nodded at him. "I'm Ron's sister."  
  
He looked at Ron, and noticed that they did kind of look like each other. "Oh."  
  
A boy with blond hair and another black boy appeared. "Harry, I guess you don't remember me, huh?" the blonde said, a humorless smile on his face.  
  
"Seamus, stop that," the black boy hissed. "You'll upset him."  
  
Seamus looked away.  
  
He looked at Seamus with something akin to sadness on his face. "Sorry I don't remember," he said quietly.  
  
Hermione and Ron glared at the blonde, then Hermione turned to him. "You have nothing to apologize of, Harry," she told him reassuringly.  
  
"You shut up, Finnigan," Ron scolded. "We have enough trouble already without you upsetting Harry, too."  
  
Seamus looked at Harry apologetically. "Sorry, Harry. It's just that... I'm shocked you don't remember."  
  
He looked confused, and with an exasperate sigh Ginny snapped, "Oh, he has this stupid crush on you, Harry!"  
  
"Crush?" he asked.  
  
They all looked at each other, then, coming to a conclusion, Hermione explained to him, "That means Seamus likes you."  
  
"Oh," he said, understood. He smiled at Seamus. "I like you, too, Seamus."  
  
Seamus gaped at him, and Ginny seemed to be unable to stop giggling. The others just stared at him, until they broke into laughter to.  
  
"Oh, Harry," Ginny gasped, "it seems that you've not only lost your memories, but your knowledge of that kind of things, too!"  
  
He decided not to ask them what they meant by that.  
  
"What are you doing here?" he asked.  
  
"We're here to help you remember, Harry," Ron said seriously.  
  
They all nodded. "Professor Dumbledore told us that it helps if we show you things and places, but since Madame Pomfrey refused to let you get out of the infirmary, we'll try our best to help," Hermione explained, taking out something from her bag and gave it to him.  
  
He hold it in his hands, and realized that it was a cloak. Smooth and fine as silk, soft and weightless. He brought it to his face, and inhaled deeply. Suddenly, an image shot into his mind, then another, and another...  
  
//Screaming book... a mirror with people inside... three-headed dog... dragon... walking in the moonlight, two people by his sides...//  
  
"Harry, HARRY!" someone was yelling, shaking him, but their voices were so far away...  
  
His eyes snapped open, and he saw that they all were looking at him worriedly. He realized with a jolt that he was shaking all over, and seemed to be unable to stop. "S-sorry," he said, still shaking.  
  
Hermione brought him into a hug, patting his back soothingly. "You okay, Harry?" she asked gently.  
  
He nodded, looking at her, his eyes still fearful and shocked. "What... happened?"  
  
Ginny has tears in her eyes when she said next, "You were screaming, and jerking around as if someone was trying to hurt you... it was..." she broke up, and Ron hugged her.  
  
"I saw a dragon... then there was a mirror," He looked at Hermione, grabbing her arms, "there were people inside it. A woman with red hair, and a man... he looked... like me," he finished softly.  
  
"The Mirror of Erised," Ron said wonderingly. They all looked at him questioningly. "The Mirror of Erised shows you your deepest and most desperate heart desire," Ron told them. "Harry found it one night when he was walking around the school wearing the Invisibility Cloak." He adverted his eyes at the cloak in Harry's hands.  
  
His eyes lowered to the cloak. "Then who were those people?"  
  
"They're your parents, Harry," Hermione said in a tight voice.  
  
His voice was soft when he asked, "Why aren't they here with me, then? Where are they?"  
  
They all seemed to have trouble answering him. Finally, Ron spoke, replying to his question as if it was the hardest thing he'd ever done. "They're dead, Harry."  
  
"Dead?" he asked blankly.  
  
Hermione nodded, tears filled her eyes again.  
  
"So I won't see them ever?"  
  
Hermione was sobbing uncontrollably as she nodded again. Seamus and the black boy seemed to have problem speaking, opening and closing their mouths. Ginny just cried into her brother's arms, and Ron looked as if he was torned between anger and sadness.  
  
"When were they... when did they die? Why did they...?" but he couldn't seem to speak. His breathing was contricted, and he tried to take in deep gulps of air.  
  
"Harry, Harry!" Hermione stood up, holding to his shoulders. "Madame Pomfrey! Something's wrong with Harry! Madame Pomfrey!"  
  
The nurse was quickly at his side, tilting his head up and speaking very fast to the others. "What happened?"  
  
"We were just talking... about Harry's parents, then he just..." Ron explained, then trailed off, staring straight ahead, towards the door. "MALFOY!" he shouted in rage, making to lung at the boy standing at the door.  
  
"Ron! NO!" Hermione yelled, trying to pull him back. Ginny and the others two just stood there, glaring at the person called Malfoy.  
  
"Mr. Weasley, I ask that you control yourself," appeared besides the pale boy was the old man with long, white hair.  
  
Ron restrained himself from killing Malfoy, but just barely.  
  
Meanwhile, Harry had gotten his breathing under control, much to the nurse's relief. She turned around, gave Malfoy a disapproving look, then nodded to the old man.  
  
"What is he doing here, Professor Dumbledore?" Ginny asked, shooting Malfoy a nasty look.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy is here with me to clear up some things," Dumbledore said, and from the tone of his voice, they knew that he would say no more.  
  
Professor Dumbledore walked toward Harry, Malfoy close behind him. Ron tensed when the pale boy came close, but he didn't do anything.  
  
"Good afternoon, Harry," Dumbledore beamed at him, and he relaxed slightly. "I'm Professor Dumbledore," he introduced himself. "I hope you are well?"  
  
"Yes, thank you, sir," he said politely.  
  
"Good, good," he smiled kindly, and stepped aside, so that Malfoy came into view. He could see the boy better now. He was average height, with light blond hair and silver streaks. His face was pale, and eyes that were silvery gray...  
  
//Those eyes looked down at him like silver stars upon the darkest night, and it was the last thing he'd seen...//  
  
"Draco Malfoy," he whispered softly, eyes misted over, "has silvery gray eyes."  
  
All his friends, or he assumed were his friends, widened their eyes at him. Dumbledore looked a bit surprised, then smiled brightly. "You know this boy in front of you, then, Harry?"  
  
He looked at Dumbledore, smiled back, and shook his head. "No."  
  
"But Harry," Ginny protested, "you called his name just now."  
  
"Did I?" he asked, geniunely surprised.  
  
"Yes! You said Draco Malfoy has silvery gray eyes," Ron pointed out, wondering why his best friend would notice that kind of thing.  
  
He paused, thinking. "In my dream... there was a boy with silvery gray eyes... he was looking down at me..." he shook his head, and noticed that everyone was staring at him. "Sorry, I didn't mean to..."  
  
Dumbledore patted his shoulder lightly. "No problem, my dear boy." Then, he gestured to the others. "I want to have a word with you all."  
  
Dumbledore turned to leave, but Ron stood where he was defiantly. "I'm not going to leave Malfoy here alone with Harry. Hasn't he done enough damage to Harry already?" Ron glared at Malfoy, who watched him coolly through his long eyelashes.  
  
He wondered why Ron was always glaring.  
  
"Trust me, Mr. Weasley. By my word, Mr. Malfoy will not do a thing to Harry," Dumbledore said happily.  
  
"That's right, Weasley. I won't do a thing to Potter here," Malfoy drawled, glancing at him.  
  
Ron clenched his fists angrily. "You -- "  
  
"Enough here," Dumbledore interrupted cheerfully, "let's go." They all left, with Hermione giving him a encouraging smile, and he smiled back at her, waving.  
  
He realized then that there wasn't anyone in the room. Some beds had their curtains drawn, but other than that there were no one in here. He looked up at Malfoy, who was glancing down at him in a very menacing way. He backed away unconsciously. Malfoy seemed very unfriendly.  
  
"It's not my fault you lost your memory, Potter," Malfoy said finally, sneering.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I mean that you were too stupid to dodge that Bludger," Malfoy snapped. Harry flinched at the harsh tone; Hermione and Ron didn't snap at him like Malfoy did. "It's bloody your fault you fall from your broomstick so don't try and blame it on me, Potter."  
  
"I'm not blaming it on you," he protested, taking a small gulp of water. Malfoy looked at him with that sneering face again. He didn't like it. "Why do you keep sneering?"  
  
Malfoy seemed at loss at his question. "Why do I...?" he spluttered.  
  
But then Harry asked another question. "Why do you call me Potter? Everyone else calls me Harry." Then without waiting for an answer, he asked another, "Why do you act so unfriendly? Did I do something wrong to you before?"  
  
"Shut up, Potter!" Malfoy snarled, and with a start, he quieted.  
  
"I'm sorry," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Malfoy looked shocked at his apology.  
  
"Sorry?" Malfoy asked incredulously. "Why would you say sorry?"  
  
"Because I made you mad," he answered easily.  
  
Malfoy was at loss for words. "L-look, Potter, I don't know what you're playing at, but it won't work on me, understand? I - I hate you!"  
  
His eyes widened, green eyes were ever more greener. "Hate? Why?"  
  
"Because we're bloody enemies!" Malfoy raged, losing his temper at last.  
  
"How can we be enemies when I don't hate you?"  
  
"Because you don't remember you hate me, that's why!"  
  
He looked at Malfoy through dark eyelashes, eyes shimmering. "S-so we were enemies?"  
  
"We are enemies!" Malfoy corrected, wishing he was somewhere else and not here, facing a crazy Potter.  
  
"But..." he spoke, his voice quieter than before, so that Malfoy had to lean closer to hear, "I don't want to be your enemy."  
  
There was a long silence.  
  
"Of course you do," Malfoy's voice was bitter, "you do want to be my enemy from the start."  
  
"I - I -" he didn't know what to say.  
  
"Look, we're enemies. I'm happy with that and I'm sure you were, too, and still are if you didn't lost your memories. I'm happy with hating you, and I don't ever want to change that."  
  
"So you're happy with hating me?" he asked, honestly wanting an answer.  
  
Malfoy opened his mouth to say yes, but nothing came out. Was he really happy with hating Potter? No, he didn't want to hate anyone, except perhaps Weasley.  
  
"Malfoy," he said, and Malfoy looked at him, "Ron called you Malfoy. Is that your name?"  
  
"No," the blonde said, a hint of bitterness in his voice. "My name is Draco Malfoy, but you Gryffindors are all mighty and high that you can't be bothered with calling my name -"  
  
"Draco," he said happily, and the pale blonde stared at him, unbelieving at what he had just heard. "I'll call you Draco."  
  
Draco was about to say something to that when they heard a shout outside. The blonde smirked, "Look like Weasel's in one of his rages again."  
  
"Ron?" he said, frowning slightly. "He always looks angry and bad-tempered." Then he chuckled. "Hermione stops him from yelling always."  
  
"It's amazing how Granger can stand Weasley as her boyfriend."  
  
"Boyfriend?" he asked curiously.  
  
"Don't tell me..." Draco said cautiously, then sighed when he saw the blank look on his face. "Oh, bloody hell. You don't even remember what the term means."  
  
"Isn't Ron everyone's boyfriend?" his honest question nearly made Draco laugh, but his next question did throw Draco off. "He's my boyfriend. Aren't you my boyfriend, too?"  
  
"Me...?" Draco laughed, "Are you out of your mind, Potter? Of course not!"  
  
"But you're a boy, and a friend..."  
  
"I'm not a friend," Draco said quickly.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
Draco had no idea how to answer that. "Can you stop asking stupid questions, Potter?! It's annoying!"  
  
"S-sorry," he looked at Draco with wide eyes.  
  
Draco sighed deeply, and gracefully fell down on a chair.  
  
"Why are you here? You don't look like you want to visit me," Harry stated.  
  
"No, like I'd ever. The bloody old fool wants me to stay here for some crazy reasons of his," Draco muttered.  
  
"Dumbledore? He's not a fool..." he protested.  
  
Draco glanced at him. "Of course, to you he's not. You're always his little Golden Boy."  
  
He gasped, a flash of image crossed his mind.  
  
//People around them, watching, shouting of curses and hexes... sparks in the air... boils apearing on someone's face, a girl with her teeth growing...//  
  
His eyes were opened before he knew it, and Draco Malfoy was standing in front of him, his face troubled. "Potter! What's up with you?!"  
  
"MALFOY!" it was Ron, slamming the door open and running towards Draco before anyone could stop him.  
  
"Weasley!" Draco yelled, trying to pry Ron's hands off his neck. "Let go of me!"  
  
"Ron! No! Ron, stop!" Hermione ran in, panicked.  
  
"What did you do to him!" Ron snarled, his hand tightened.  
  
He scrambled off the bed, the cup of water in his hands dropped, unnoticed, on the floor. He pried Ron's hands away successfully, partly because Ron was surprised seeing him there, helping Malfoy, partly because Hermione took his arm and pulled him back.  
  
"Draco, you okay?" he asked as the blonde rubbed his neck angrily.  
  
Hermione's eyes widened at him saying Draco, Ron just turned green at that. Ginny paled visibly, and Seamus and Dean were just gaping at him with disbelief.  
  
Draco, noticing the reaction of the Gryffindors, smirked. Turning to him, the blonde said sweetly, "I'm fine, but my neck does kind of hurt."  
  
Seamus's eyes narrowed when he saw his crush looking concerned at his all-time enemy. Malfoy was milking it for all it worth! "Madame Pomfrey can fix it," he said, genuinely worried, looking at Draco's neck, which was imprinted with fingers that had grabbed his throat before.  
  
"Move out of the way!" Madame Pomfrey snapped moodily. "Mr. Weasley! Twenty points from Gryffindor! I'm sure Professor McGonagall told you that there are no fighting permitted in the infirmary! Now out! OUT! All of you!"  
  
Hermione went over to him, turning him around so she could look at him. "Why were you screaming, Harry?"  
  
"Screaming?" he said, not understanding Hermione very well.  
  
"Yes, you were screaming. That's why Ron lost his temper like that," Hermione told him gently, smiling in a way she hoped was reassuring him.  
  
"I... saw people in my mind. There was a girl... looked like you, her teeth was growing... then Draco was there, he was yelling something." He gulped, his face paled. "I was yelling, too. There were sparks everywhere..." he shuddered.  
  
Hermione turned to Dumbledore with a worried face. He shook his head at her, gesturing for her to go with the others before the nurse lose her temper again. That was the first time they'd seen Madame Pomfrey take points away.  
  
Hermione left him. "Rest, Harry. We'll come and see you again."  
  
"Kids today! Have no self-control at all! No wonder I have so many patients in here!" Madame Pomfrey ranted angrily. Then, to Draco, she ordered, "Sit still, and you can go when I say so."  
  
With that, she left.  
  
He went back to his bed and sat down, pulling his knees up and wrapped his arms around them. "I'm sorry Ron did that," he spoke at last, "he is rather protective of me."  
  
"You always apologize for everything, don't you, Potter?" Draco scowled, clearly not in a good mood. "If Weasley doesn't stop being like that people will think he has a crush on you soon!"  
  
He giggled at that. "Ron doesn't have a crush on me, Seamus does."  
  
Draco's eyes widened at that. "Finnigan?" the blonde threw back his head and laughed. "Who'd have thought! But then again, it's rather obvious..."  
  
"How so?"  
  
"Well, he never seems to notice anyone else but you. He tries to spend as much time as he could with you, and he stares at you a lot," Draco ticked off his fingers.  
  
"How do you know that? Were you watching him?"  
  
"NO!" Draco said, shocked that Harry would think something like that.  
  
He smiled. "Then were you watching me?"  
  
Draco had no answer to that, and glared at Harry, who just smiled at him.  
  
P.a.R.t.T.h.R.e.E.d.O.n.E  
  
After Dumbledore asked everyone to leave the infirmary, closing the door behind him, the headmaster told everyone to enter the small office next to the room, and from there proceeded to explain to them what he'd observed so far.  
  
"What's are you doing, Professor?" Ron asked angrily. "You can't leave Malfoy alone with Harry! He could do anything to Harry!"  
  
"Ron!" Hermione admonished. "Don't be rude!"  
  
"It's all well, Miss Granger," Dumbledore chuckled. "Mr. Weasley is just concern for his friend, and that is very understandable, but I'm afraid... without Mr. Malfoy's help, Harry wouldn't be able to regain his memory loss."  
  
"What do you mean, Professor?" Ginny gasped.  
  
"I'll let Madame Pomfrey explains the first part," Dumbledore said, smiling at the nurse.  
  
"Mr. Potter's condition is not a normal one. He seems to have lost his memory, but he also seems to want to lose his memory," Madame Pomfrey said slowly, and Ron interrupted.  
  
"But he can't be! Harry doesn't want to lose him memory!"  
  
Hermione glared at him. "Ron, shut up!"  
  
"Sorry," he muttered.  
  
"Mr. Potter has experienced a very damaging hit on the head when that Bludger connected with his skull, and also when he fell," continued the nurse crisply. "The fall has broken a few of his ribs and his left leg, but I've fixed that. With a memory loss as great as Mr. Potter's, I should suggest that he be removed to St. Mungle..."  
  
"But he can't!" Hermione protested while Ginny gasped out loud.  
  
"It can't be that serious!" Seamus spoke up, very worried.  
  
"Yes, it is," Madame Pomfrey snapped, "now do stop interrupting me or I will stop explaining and return to my patients." They all shut up.  
  
Satisfied, Madame Pomfrey carried on, "However, since we've seen new developments, Mr. Potter will be staying here."  
  
"New developments?" Ron asked suspiciously. "What kind of new developments?"  
  
Madame Pomfrey gave Dumbledore a look, and the old man cleared his throat. "Ah, yes. Harry doesn't seem to remember anyone of us," he seemed to be unable to carry on. The others waited for him expectantly, but Hermione was thinking, putting two and two together, and came up with an impossible solution.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore! It can't be!" the witch gasped.  
  
Dumbledore beamed at her. "Always the clever one, aren't you, Miss Granger?"  
  
Hermione flushed red, while the others now turned to her. "What do you know, Hermione?" Ginny urged.  
  
"Harry," she said, seeming at loss for words, "you see when Malfoy came in. Harry didn't recognize any of us, but when he saw Malfoy..."  
  
Realization dawned over them and Ron gave a outraged shout. "It's impossible!"  
  
"It is not impossible, Mr. Weasley," the nurse snapped.  
  
"But when we asked if he remembers Malfoy, he says no," Ginny said reasonably.  
  
"It's because he doesn't want to remember his past," Hermione told them with a sad voice.  
  
"Why doesn't he?" this time it was Dean who spoke.  
  
Ron and Hermione looked at each other, and Dumbledore's eyes saddened. "When a person has been through too much, sometimes it's better to let go," Dumbledore said quietly.  
  
They all were quiet, then suddenly Hermione gasped. "Madame Pomfrey! Why was Harry... I mean... what happened that made Harry gasp for air like that?"  
  
"Oh, that," the nurse sighed, "Mr. Potter loses all of his memories, so basically, he is living his childhood and innocence all over again. So of course, when you told him about his parents, he'd have trouble taking it in, resulting in the constriction of breathing. I have always known he was delicate."  
  
"Harry is NOT delicate!" Ron yelled.  
  
"Harry is the strongest boy I've ever met," Dumbledore stated firmly.  
  
Madame Pomfrey looked at all of them, then to Dumbledore.  
  
"So..." Seamus said slowly, "does that mean that Malfoy has to help Harry recover his memories?"  
  
Dumbledore's silence was enough to confirm their suspicion, much to their indignation and disappointment.  
  
"Why him?" Ron said bitterly. "Why couldn't it be anyone of us?"  
  
"There must be a reason why Harry remembers Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Weasley, and we will never know that reason until Harry recovers," Dumbledore told them, his blue eyes troubled.  
  
"We don't trust Malfoy," Hermione voiced everyone's thought.  
  
"I know, but he's the best bet we've got."  
  
Hermione opened her mouth to ask something, when there was a scream coming from the infirmary which sounded a lot like Harry's.  
  
"HARRY!" Hermione stood up abruptly, causing the chair to fell over.  
  
Ginny gave a small squeak, and that was when the bushy haired witch noticed that her boyfriend had dashed out of the office. No doubt, to kill a certain blond boy.  
  
With a sigh, she and the others ran after Ron.  
  
P.a.R.t.F.o.U.r.D.o.N.e  
  
Lucius Malfoy slammed his fists down on Dumbledore's desk, furious. It was the evening the day after the realization of Harry's incident. Dumbledore had explained to Draco about Harry needing his help, and the blonde was outraged. Sure, it was his fault that he sent off that Bludger and caused Harry to lose his memory, but telling him to help his arch-enemy was out of the question. Therefore, Draco Malfoy owled his father to help him with the situation.  
  
Now, Lucius and Dumbledore were in the headmaster's office, trying to have a civil conversation.  
  
"I don't believe I understand you very well, Dumbledore," Lucius said through gritted teeth.  
  
"And I believe I have made myself clear enough," Dumbledore replied calmly. "Young Draco Malfoy is the only one who can help Mr. Potter regain his memory loss..."  
  
"It is not of his concern if Potter went and lost his memory. I will not allow my son do... do such... absurb thing!"  
  
"Draco is the cause of Mr. Potter's amnesia. You know very well as I do that if Mr. Potter does not regain his memories, Draco could be in much trouble with The Department of Mysteries..."  
  
"Are you threatening me, Dumbledore?" Lucius hissed.  
  
"I am merely telling you what you've known all along," Dumbledore answered him.  
  
Lucius's nostrils flared while his fists clenched painfully. Then suddenly, his body relaxed, and he leaned back, straightened himself up and smiled dangerously. "No matter what you say, my son will not lower himself to such Gryffindors. I will personally have a word with Fudge." With that, he turned and walked briskly out of the office.  
  
Dumbledore looked after him sadly, shaking his head.  
  
P.a.R.t.F.i.V.e.D.o.N.e  
  
c h a p t e r . o n e . e n d...  
  
* to be continued in chapter 2 - the arrangement *  
  
* * * 


	2. The Arrangement

M e m o r i e s . o f . m e...

* * * * * * * * *

C.h.a.p.t.e.r.2 - the arrangement...

The air was calm, and the trees seemed to be moving along with the soundless music. The lake was motionless, under the clear sky of Hogwarts, sparkling in the bright sunlight. A young man with silvery-blond hair stepped out into the ground, in his hand a Nimbus 2001 glittering proudly. He made his way towards the Quidditch pitch, oblivious to the peaceful surrounding, too absorbed in his thoughts to care.

As the Quidditch pitch loomed nearer, he caught a sight of someone flying on the air. Instinctively he moved himself into the shade of one of the goal posts. Looking up, he squinted his eyes at the only occupant, beside himself, on the pitch. Dark, messy hair... round, goofy glasses... bright green eyes. He sighed deeply. Just his luck running into none other than Harry Potter.

His first instinct was to fly up the air and send a scathing insult at his arch-enemy, but, strangely, he didn't feel like doing that. Nearly seven years of insulting the one and only Harry Potter had resulted in nothing but more humiliation for him. Then, his eyes caught a trunk near him. Without a doubt he knew what it was, and an idea flashed into his mind. An idea so wicked and Slytherin-ish that he couldn't help himself.

Smirking gleefully, he carefully put down his broomstick and opened the trunk, just to be faced with four different size and color balls. Without hesitation he braced himself, then opened one clasp of a struggling ball. The ball would have shot out into the air had he not held it firmly with both of his hands. Turning around with the still struggling ball in his hand, he directed his eyes at the dark-haired wizard in the air. With a mental laugh he released the ball towards his rival's direction and watched, waiting expectantly.

What he had not expected was for the Bludger to shot through the air like a rocket and hit the Gryffindor on the head. No, what he'd expected was for the ball to hit Potter somewhere that will leave an injury. Therefore, he panicked when the other boy fell from his broomstick a fifty feet head-down on the ground.

Whipping out his wand, he shouted a Levitation Charm at Potter, but to no avail. The Levitation Charm worked well on small objects, but it was just like a boulder falling through water for human. Luckily, the charm did stop the hard break of the fall.

Draco closed his eyes, and soon he heard a sickening 'thud' somewhere far to his left. He turned and was about to run before someone discovered his misdeed when a thought crossed his mind. What if Potter dies? _Draco debated with himself. It didn't matter what happens to Potter, he must run before he was found, then he would be in more troubles than he could ever be. But... a small voice was nagging in his head... if he dies, then who will Draco pick on? Who will he insult and use to get by the long day at Hogwarts? So, Draco reasoned as he ran over to Potter, kneeling down in front of the boy, him saving Potter was purely for himself, and not that he was doing it for the goodness of his heart, because there was no good in his head, no._

Potter's glasses were a few feet away from the boy, and Draco was wondering what he should do when his rival opened his eyes, and Draco was filled with green fire. His breath caught in his throat when he saw those eyes that weren't shielded with ugly glasses anymore. They were the purest green he'd ever seen, with just hints of gold around the edge of the pupils. So Draco was a little dazed when his arch-enemy closed his eyes. Shaking his head, angry with himself for thinking how beautiful Potter's eyes were, Draco took out his wand again and, concentrated better, he muttered the Levitation Charm. The other boy's body lifted several feet from the air, and from there on Draco led him through the castle and into the infirmary, where he knew his fate was waiting...

P.a.R.t.S.i.X.d.O.n.E

Draco stormed into the Slytherin Common Room, his face flushed with anger, his robes billowing behind. Some Slytherins turned around to look at him, mostly the sevies, the others quickly excused themselves to somewhere else.

A rather good looking, black-haired boy with a ponytail came over to Draco, who had just gracefully seated himself on the armchair in front of the crackling fire. "Hey Draco, problem?"

As if waiting for this question, Draco snarled with disgust, "Yes! The nerves of that bumbling old fool! I'll never forgive him!"

"Dumbledore?" the dark-haired wizard said in surprise. "What's he got to do with anything?"

"Blaise, you have _no_ idea what he made me do!" Draco said, rather exaggeratedly. Turning to face his friend, Draco comfortably pulled up one of his legs and folded it under him. "Do you remember what I did to Potter?"

Blaise smirked. "How could I not? You sent off a Bludger and it hit him on the head, then he fell to the ground and got sent to the hospital wing. Very Slytherin-like, Draco. But honestly, I still don't understand how you got away with that. Injuring Dumbledore's favorite boy and still managed to be here without any punishment..."

"_Not_ without any punishment, Blaise," Draco corrected him. "There's more to the story than what you've already known."

Blaise gave him a look that said 'go on, I'm all ears' and nodded. Draco sighed. Deeply. "He got an amnesia from the hit." Blaise gasped, but Draco put up a hand to stop him from speaking. "Not only that, I'm the only one he seems to remember..."

"Clever boy," Blaise mused.

"That is _not_ funny, especially when Dumbledore made me take care of Potter for my punishment!" Draco sulked.

"That is not possible! Dumbledore made you do that for your punishment?" Blaise said, disbelief cleared in his voice.

"Well, not exactly," Draco said honestly, pausing briefly to rearrange his words. "He told - _forced_ me to help Potter get his memory back, and he didn't say it was a punishment either, but if this is not a punishment, then I don't know what is."

"Your dad can get you out of this mess, surely?" Blaise asked. Secretly, Lucius Malfoy was his idol, and if anyone he thought could help Draco, it was Draco's father himself.

"No," Draco said bitterly. "I've already owled him, and he had a talk with Dumbledore, _and_ the Minister of Magic. Basically, either I agree to it, or be sued. Losing someone else's memory, like Fudge said, is a highly serious crime. Dumbledore had made it clear that if I don't help Potter get his memory back, I'll be damned."

"Well then," Blaise said slowly, then patted Draco's shoulder in a way he hoped was comforting, "good luck."

"Hey! What does that suppose to mean?" Draco cried in indignation. "You're supposed to be my number one helper! So help!"

"Can't get you out of this one, Draco. If your father can't help you, then no one can," Blaise said with a sigh, then, trying to cheer Draco up, he said encouragingly. "Besides, if you help him, you could get close enough to him to ask what Weasley's secrets are to embarrass him about it!"

Sure enough, Draco's face lit up at the idea. "Hey, good one, Blaise! Maybe I'll get close enough to make Potter pull a prank on Weasel as well!"

And with the bright idea, the two Slytherins began talking excitedly about what they could do to the Gryffindors...

P.a.R.t.S.e.V.e.N.d.O.n.E

The boy who called Harry Potter stepped into the common room of Gryffindor Tower, eyes full of awe at the sight in front of him. Ron and Hermione were behind him, not sure if they should feel happy that Harry was awed or sad that Harry didn't remember.

"Harry, er, this is the Gryffindor Tower," Ron began nervously, "and, er, you live here."

Hermione hit him on the head, seeing that Harry was about to believe Ron. "What he means is, Harry," she said gently, glaring at Ron, "you come here when you're not in classes or the Great Hall or anywhere else. Your dormitory is up that way, you sleep in there."

"Okay," Harry said absently, watching the people around him. They all seemed so friendly and seemed to know him. He waved to a few of them, and turned to Hermione. "Who are them, Hermione?"

"They're your housemate, of course, and I'm sure you can learn their names later," Hermione said, smiling and ushered him up a stairway. "Now we'll go and see your dorm."

"Hermione! You're not supposed to go into a boy dormitory!" Ron cried, even though he knew Hermione would not listen to him.

"I'm the Head Girl, Ron! I can go anywhere I want!" Hermione told him matter-of-factly.

Ron sighed.

Harry smiled at their behavior, wondering why they're always bickering with each other. His eyes widened when they entered the dormitory. There were four-poster beds, five in all, decorated in red and gold. The room was so heart-warming.

"Your bed is over there, Harry," Ron pointed to a bed near the window, and slowly Harry made his way toward it. A familiar smell filled him as he opened the curtains to his bed. He felt like he should know this place, but somehow he couldn't put a finger on where he'd seen it.

Harry turned around at his friends, who both looked very hopeful at him. "The dorm is very friendly," Harry stated finally, much to his friends' disappointment. Then, smiling encouragingly, Hermione came over and put her arms around him.

"Can you remember anything, Harry?"

Harry shook his head, touching the Gryffindor scarf with misted eyes. "No, I don't..." A strange image filled his head, _white, soft feathers, large golden eyes, a quiet hoot and a loving peck..._

He suddenly turned to Hermione. "Is there a white owl around here, Hermione?"

Ron's eyes widened, and so did Hermione's. "Y-yes! Of course!" Hermione squeaked, pulling his hand and ran down the stairs, Ron followed after both of them quickly.

A few minutes later they were running across Hogwarts ground, towards the Owlery. Upon entering the place, Harry felt a familiarity reached him, and without looking he walked over to a snowy white owl, who looked up at him with happiness and flew down to his outstretched arm. She pecked him on the cheek affectionately, and he smiled against her soft, warm feathers.

"This is Hedwig, Harry," Ron informed him, hesitating to get closer to the green eyes Gryffindor. "She's your owl."

Harry's eyes were wide when they looked at Ron. "I have an owl?"

"Of course!" Hermione said impatiently. "But do you remember?"

Harry didn't seem to listen, just continued to stroke Hedwig lovingly. "She's very pretty," he said quietly, and Hedwig hooted appreciatively. "And very smart I'm sure."

Just at that moment the door slammed open, and the three friends turned around.

"Oh goody," was the dry greeting of the new comer.

Draco Malfoy stood in the doorway, arms crossed arrogantly and looking at the three of them with disdain on his face.

Ron glared at Draco, while Hermione frowned with her usual Head Girl look, and Harry just smiled at the blonde(?!).

"Malfoy, what are _you_ doing here?" Ron snarled very unpleasantly, and Draco raised an eyebrow at that.

"Well, I thought it was rather obvious why people go to the Owlery. My, my, Weasley, I know there's not much of money you have, but I didn't know you lack so much brain as it is," Draco sneered.

This time Harry frowned as Hermione held Ron back. "That wasn't very nice," Harry said quietly, looking at Draco through long eyelashes.

Draco glanced at him. "My point exactly. Nice would be the last thing I'd be doing with you lot."

"If you want to owl something, Malfoy, get it over with and sod off," Hermione said stiffly.

Draco sent her a nasty smirk and went over to the other corner of the Owlery, finding his own owl and tied a letter to its leg.

Ron watched the Slytherin suspiciously and finally turned back to his friends, only to find Harry looking at Draco in interest.

"Harry!" Ron hissed. "You don't go staring at a Slytherin! And Malfoy, at that!"

Harry turned to him curiously. "Why not?"

"Because... he's a Slytherin!" Ron said, bewildered at Harry's question.

"He's funny," Harry giggled(?!).

Ron stared at Harry while Hermione just looked at him calculatingly.

Harry's eyes turned back to Draco, who, at that same moment, spun around to leave, and their eyes met.

Something in Harry's eyes flickered, then it was gone, and Harry smiled brightly at Draco.

Shaking his head a bit, Draco left in a haze, wondering what in the world that was about.

"C'mon, Harry," Hermione pulled him away, "let's go and see Hagrid."

Harry nodded obediently, his mind on a person with silvery gray eyes.

P.a.R.t.E.i.G.h.T.d.O.n.E

Harry was quite nervous and excited. Even though Ron had repeatedly told him that this wasn't his first lesson, Harry couldn't shake off the feeling that's... so _new_ to him. So here they were, walking to Potions, with a very whinny Ron and a exasperated Hermione. Harry thought they make a cute couple, and they do, actually.

"Ron, just shut up, will you?" Hermione snapped, finally getting annoyed at Ron. "No matter how much you whine, Potions will not be canceled.

"But Hermione~" Ron continued his whining, much to Harry's amusement, "what if Potions will be canceled for the day? Never leave out a possibility. Really, Hermione, you should know that."

Hermione huffed. "Just shut up Ron, and give us some peace."

Ron did shut up, much to Harry's amazement.

The first person Harry saw upon entering the classroom was none other than Draco.

The first person Draco saw when he looked up from his notes was none other than Harry. Immediately Draco looked away, feeling very heated for some reason.

Harry, almost in a daze, followed after Ron and Hermione to the back of the room, flashes of images crossed through his mind in a pile of mess. Frowning, he took out his Potions text book in his bag and put it on the table.

"Harry, what's with you?" Hermione hissed, waving a hand in front of his eyes. "Harry!"

Harry jumped slightly and snapped out of his reverie. "Yes?" he smiled.

"You okay? You were like, totally spacing out," Ron said, looking at him suspiciously.

"If you don't feel well, then I'll take you to the infirmary," Hermione said gently, taking his hand. "Don't be hard on yourself."

"I'm not, Hermione. I feel fine," Harry reassured her. "Just saw some stuff in my head..."

"What stuff, Harry?" Ron asked eagerly.

Harry furrowed his brows, then shook his head, almost sadly.

Hermione patted his hand in a motherly gesture. "It's fine, Harry. Take all the time you need. There's no rush."

Harry nodded, and that was when the door was slammed open, and Harry saw the nasty-looking man in black once again. Without a doubt, he knew that was the Potions Master, Professor Snape, whom Ron was very keen to insult in private.

"Be quiet and get in your seat," Snape snapped as he stepped up to the front of the classroom. "Today you'll pair up with a partner to make a Fortification Potion." Everyone was swift to find a partner, and Harry was too, until Snape's eyes turned to glare at him. "Potter, you'll be working with Draco from now on."

"WHAT?!" Ron yelled.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for yelling in class," Snape said, turning his coal black eyes to Ron. "Keep your temper in check, Mr. Weasley, or a detention will be in order."

Ron turned red, both from anger and embarrassment, but he didn't say anything.

"Well, get a move on, Potter!" Snape snarled at Harry, who jumped almost a foot high in the air.

Hermione hold onto Harry's arm, glaring at Snape as if saying 'would you please leave him alone? He's had enough already!' Snape, after a glaring contest with Hermione, grudgingly turned and walked back to his desk. Hermione flicked her hair out of her eyes, smiling at Harry. "Go on, Harry. If that git does anything to you, then we'll be after him with the Unforgivable Curses."

"He won't do anything to me," Harry said automatically.

Hermione and Ron gave him a funny look, but didn't say anything. That just left another question for Harry to answer altogether.

Draco, for his part, was absolutely terrified when Snape announced that Harry was working with him until god knows when, so it was understandable, at least for him, that he didn't look up or acknowledge Harry in any way when the Gryffindor came over.

"Hi, Draco," Harry greeted, and felt Draco tensed up, but didn't say anything. "Um..."

Draco abruptly stood up and turned around sharply to glare at Harry. "I'm going to get the ingredients for the potions. You," he pointed at Harry, quite rudely at that, "will write down the directions and notes."

Harry nodded, watching as Draco went to get the ingredients. He sat down and took out his quill and parchment.

When Draco came back with his hands full of all the things they needed, Harry was finished with his notes. They worked in silence, with Harry often glancing over to Draco, wondering why the blond was so hostile, and why was there a nagging feeling at the back of his head, making him feel like he was supposed to know Draco from before.

"Pass the dragon ash," Draco said, pouring some opal liquid into the cauldron while stirring it at the same time.

Harry scanned their ingredients on the table and hastily grabbed the bottle of dragon ash, carefully measured, and gave it to Draco. The Slytherin took the bottle without looking, and instead, he grabbed Harry's hand.

Harry jumped, dropping the bottle of ash in the process, and looked into the silvery orbs with hints of shock.

His hand is imprinted with his own blood - I must not tell lies - it hurt, and over and over again he writes... he falls, face first onto the cold floor... "Trip Jinx, Potter!" a triumphant shout... the sneering face looks up at his as the pale hand brushes past him and reaches for the largest twig in the pile...

The bottle connected with the hard floor, shattering to pieces at his feet, and there was shouting, calling him...

"Harry!"

His eyes came into focus, and his best friends were standing in front of him, but he looked past them, not really seeing anyone except the blond Slytherin, watching him from behind. Harry noticed, even though shielded with an indifferent wall, there were worries behind them, watching him, with the stormy gray eyes bored into his...

Without a word Harry turned and threw up into the nearest cauldron.

P.a.R.t.N.i.n.e.D.o.N.e

The Potions incident was a disaster. The cauldron, which belonged to Crabbe and Goyle, blew up and sent green, gooey liquid everywhere around the classroom. Snape was shouting and taking points from Gryffindor as if there was no tomorrow, but didn't give Harry a detention. He suspected it was because Hermione was glaring at Snape the whole time. He had to stay behind to clean up the room, though, except that he didn't need to do anything, because Hermione, with a flick of her wand, magically vanished all the green liquid and even _polished_ everything in the classroom. She had been ranting off how Snape could've done that and he just wanted to torment Harry since they got out of Potions and into History of Magic class.

Ron, on the other hand, nearly strangled Draco to death, saying that the blonde hexed Harry. Snape also took off points for that, and in one lesson they lost Gryffindor almost a hundred points.

History of Magic was okay, however much boring it was. Harry, at least, could try and sort out what that was he saw in those eyes. Through the silvery gray wall, emotions were wild. Ron had told him over and over again that Draco Malfoy was the son of a Death Eater and doesn't have a heart, but the only place your feelings came from was through your heart, surely? Draco... he was different, somehow. Harry just didn't understand it. He just know that the blond isn't bad at heart, like everyone thought he was.

He saw Dumbledore at lunch. The headmaster nodded and smiled at him in the most reassuring way, and he smiled back. Draco was there, sitting across from him, a table away. Harry talked with Seamus, and the others, but strangely enough, he couldn't remember anything... he didn't have any recollection of before like when he was with Draco. He told Hermione and Ron that, and they just looked at him oddly.

After their last class, Transfiguration, which Harry successfully turned a pencil into a sparrow on his first try, much to everyone's surprise, Ron suggested they go and fly a bit.

Hermione went off her head at that.

"Go flying? FLYING? Ronald Weasley, do you know what you are suggesting? Harry lost his memories because of flying! What could've happened _this_ time? And here I thought you _care_ about your best friend! You thoughtless, ignorant, air-headed... _bigot_!"

Naturally, Ron, lost his temper at her.

"And what do _you_ know? Last time Harry was alone, with no one there to save him! I'm with him this time, and therefore, I will prevent anyone from getting near him! And what do you know? Perhaps by flying he could get back his memories! Don't think you know everything, you know-it-all, bossy, annoying... _witch_!"

Five minutes later found the two Gryffindor boys walking down to the Quidditch pitch with their broomsticks in hands, Ron's left cheek burning red, imprinted of fingers.

"That... that violent girl," Ron muttered. "I can't believe she slapped me."

"I thought it was rather wrong of you to say all that things to her," Harry voiced his thought quietly.

"Harry! Not you too!" Ron said, horrified. "I can't believe you agree with her! What about me? She called me all those names!"

"Well, um, I think she's wrong, too, but um," Harry hesitated, offering his best friend a comforting smile.

"Harry, nooo, you side up with her against me, and you called yourself my best friend," Ron groaned, hitting his head with the tip of his broomstick.

Harry's laughter was carried through the hallway, a genuine, care-free laugh.

It seemed that Harry didn't lose his knowledge of flying, because once he mounted his broom, he just _knew_ how to do it. He swirled and twirled and dived and did a loop-a-loop, and he even did the Wrongski Feint perfectly, much to Ron's amazement. Flying came naturally to Harry, as if it was part of himself, just like that.

Ron re-taught Harry about the ways of Quidditch, and they used pinecones for substitutes and played for some while, until it was time for dinner and Ron suggested they go back. Harry told him that he wanted to stay out for a while, and promised that nothing will happen to him, and Ron, with his stomach growling, reluctantly went.

After that Harry sat still on his broomstick, watching as the sky darkened along the horizon, bringing the first stars out into the night. He thought he remembered that there was a time where he sat here, watching the stars, too, but he couldn't be sure, since his mind was so blank, as if all the things he knew once had been washed away by a great wave. When he tried to remember, however, it felt as if the memories were cowering away from him, leaving his mind, if possible, emptier than before.

The stars reminded him of something, though. Shinning brightly and so... _alive_. He saw them before... just more silvery, and worried, and... they were ever more beautiful than this...

Bright, silvery stars gazed down upon him, worried and panicky, and it was the last thing...

"Draco..." a whispery sound escaped his lips, and it surprised him to no end. Something - an image - flickered in his mind, of himself, of a blond boy, talking to each other under a starry night, watching the stars through a large, stony window... was it a memory? Was it an illusion of his mind?

"Potter."

Someone was calling him, faintly, distantly, and it took him a few seconds to realize that it came from below. He dived down, feeling the wind rushing through his hair, the excitement coursing through his body, a feeling so familiar, yet it was...

"Hi, Draco," Harry said, jumping off his broomstick about two feet high in the air. He saw Draco's eyes, flickered with an emotion, a memory, perhaps? Maybe there was something both of them had forgotten, or maybe it was just him. "What are you doing here?"

"You weren't in the Great Hall," Draco replied, shrugging, "and I heard Weasley telling his girlfriend you were here, so I thought I should come to see..."

"Oh, well," Harry said, suddenly didn't know what to say. His eyes returned to the sky above, and almost subconsciously, he asked, "Do you think the night sky is mysterious?"

Draco looked at him, a little bit bewildered, but his voice was smooth and clear when he answered, "I don't know, do you?"

Instead of answering, Harry flopped down to the ground, lying on his back and watching the sky with a glazed expression, his hands curled around the soft blades of the grass.

Draco joined him a moment later, sitting down with one leg pulled up to his chest. _This is so ironic_, Draco thought, smirking slightly; this was the exact spot where Potter fell just a few days ago. "The sky holds truths that we may never know," Draco said, staring up at one especially bright star, wondering whom it was shinning down to.

"The sky offers peace to a lonesome soul," Harry said, almost in a daze. Draco stole a glance at him. The Gryffindor's eyes didn't have their usual sparks, instead, it was dark and misted over, with his dark eyelashes half-covered the pupils.

"Potter?" Draco inquired hesitantly. Harry didn't answer him, just continued to gaze up into the velvety night.

"Ferret face," a dreamy smile passed over Harry's face.

Okay, that is it! Draco thought with annoyance. Grabbing Harry's shoulders, he shook harshly. "Potter! Snap out of it!"

Harry blinked owlishly, looking up at Draco with surprise. His green eyes brightened a bit, much to Draco's relief. "Yes?"

"What was that all about?" Draco huffed, hands retreating to his sides.

"What was what all about?" Harry asked.

"You, lying here as if you were hypnotized or something," Draco said, curious forming in him. "You said..."_ ferret face to me_ "some strange things, too."

"Did I?" Harry said, frowning as if trying to remember. "How come I don't remember?"

Draco's eyes widened. "Are you serious, Potter?"

"My name is Harry," Harry said happily. "Everyone calls me Harry, and you should, too."

"Why should I?"

"Because I call you Draco."

Draco stared at Harry's smiling face, and wondered which Harry - Potter he hated more, the superior, challenging Potter or the innocent, curious Potter, and surprised that he didn't know.

"Whatever," Draco muttered, curious as to why blood was rushing up his neck and making him feel very flustered.

"Do you fly?" Harry asked suddenly.

"Yeah, all the time," Draco smirked, "against you, at Quidditch, at any chance I got... we got."

Harry's eyes saddened, and he said, very quietly, so that Draco had to lean closer to hear. "I don't want to be your enemy."

I don't either, the thought came out of nowhere and shocked Draco almost into oblivion. Draco didn't justify the thought, though, because he knew it was true, perhaps he knew it all along... all this time, and he just didn't realize it.

Or was too afraid to.

"We have to," Draco said, eyes focused on the stars above, his voice a whisper, cutting through the cold air. "It's fate."

He didn't see the sadness showing in Harry's eyes.

P.a.R.t.T.e.N.d.O.n.E

Harry went to the Gryffindor Tower to put away his broomstick before going to the Great Hall. It was strange, even though he know this place was very unfamiliar, his feet just carried him to his destination, much to his amazement. Upon entering the Great Hall, all eyes turned to him. Harry flushed a pretty mauve, wishing that they would just stop staring at him and whispering behind their hands to each other. He spotted Draco, smirking at him, and Ron and Hermione, standing up as if to run over to him.

Harry made his way over to his friends, and all at once Hermione admonished him thoroughly. "Harry, I hope you know what you were doing! Staying out there all by yourself! Something could've happened to you! God, I was so worried! I can't believe Ron didn't stop you!" Ron winced when she glared at him. "Harry, are you okay? Did someone try to hurt you out there? I..."

"Hermione, I'm fine," Harry cut in, smiling brightly at her, hoping to ease her worries and silent her, if just for a while. "Don't worry about me. I was just talking with Draco out there."

"What?!" This time both Ron and Hermione shrieked, causing quite some people to look over at their way.

"Harry! Did he hurt you?" Hermione asked worriedly, checking his face.

"Oh! That ferret face! I'll..." Ron growled, glaring over to the Slytherin table.

"He didn't do anything to me!" Harry said quickly, not wanting his friends to get the wrong idea. "Actually, we were talking. He was very nice to me."

Hermione and Ron looked very doubtful. Nice would be the last thing on their mind that describe Malfoy.

Much to Harry's relief, his friends didn't yell at him anymore, and he ate his dinner mostly in silence, now and then talking to some Gryffindors he learned the names that early afternoon. He felt an intense gaze burning at the back of his neck, but didn't turn around to look. For some reasons he knew it was Draco who was looking at him, but he couldn't bring himself to look back. What Draco said to him before, it bothered him, very much.

It's fate...

No, it wasn't, Harry thought furiously. He didn't know why this idea bothered him so much, but he didn't want to be Draco's enemy, anyone's enemy. He just wanted to make friends, lots of friends, and...

A pain shot through his head, along with glimpses of the past. He clasped his hand to his forehead, gasping quietly. _Long, ghastly hands reaching out... narrow, fiery red eyes, cold, lipless mouth, so cold, so painful, his head hurts, it hurts very badly... a flash of green light..._

He felt arms around him, and dazedly the Great Hall's ceiling came to focus. Harry sat straight up, grabbing Hermione's arms. "Hermione! Who... who is it?"

"Harry, what are you talking about?" Hermione said tearfully, her eyes shimmering with tears.

"A man, in black cloak, pale face, lipless mouth, a flat nose, red eyes, and... and... there was a green light! Hermione! It was..." Harry's body was shaking, and he couldn't breathe, what was happening to him? Harry, slowly, gasped in air.

Ginny was crying, standing behind him, and everyone was craning their necks to see what was going on. People surrounding him... couldn't breathe...

"Mr. Potter! _Immedius_!" Oxygen easily slid through his nose and down, and he was able to breathe again.

"Professor McGonagall?" Harry asked tiredly, looking up at the teacher standing in front of him, lacking her usual stern look and instead watching him wearily.

"Mr. Potter, are you alright?"

"Y-yes, I'm fine, I was just..." Harry shook his head. "But there was a man, who was he?"

Hermione was sobbing uncontrollably when she answered him. "It was V-Voldemort, Harry!"

The name shot through his head and he was filled with cruel, acidic laughter.

Harry fainted.

P.a.R.t.E.L.e.V.e.N.d.O.n.E

Harry woke up the next day in the infirmary, and the first person he saw, shockingly, was Draco.

Draco was sitting next to the bed on one of those chairs reserved for the visitors, hands folded across his chest, blond hair falling down, obscuring his eyes as the sunlight caught the light, silvery strands. He appeared to be in deep thought, and Harry watched him for a long while, and noticed that he didn't blink for three whole minutes. He also noticed other things, too. Like how his hair was really silvery blond and not just blond, and how his nose was slightly raised and curvier than his, and how one corner of his mouth was higher than the other one, and that his lower lip pushed out slightly, making him look as if he was pouting, and how his high cheekbones were so sharp that he believed it could cut through glass.

He noticed something else, too. When he wasn't wearing his school robes, he wore a black cloak with silver seams and designs on it. A cloak with a design of a dragon was one he saw Draco wear the most. He noticed Draco raised his right hand and pushed the strands out of his eyes. He noticed Draco bit his lower lip, worrying it. He noticed when Draco raised his head, and turned to stared into his eyes.

Harry fell in love with Draco's eyes the first time he saw them, or after he lost his memories, at least. They were gray, with dark silver tints lining around the edges, almost covered with his light eyelashes. Harry knew when Draco got angry, the eyes would became stormy, losing all of its silvery color. Harry knew when Draco was happy, his eyes would lighten up and look more silvery than ever, but he didn't know what emotions were running through his heart behind the barriers, just like he didn't know what Draco was doing here.

"Would it be odd if I tell you I came to visit?" Draco asked Harry, after a moment.

Harry shook his head.

"I thought it was," Draco said, smiling, the first time, the very first, Harry saw him like that. It changed his face completely. "I thought I was losing my mind by coming here to see you. I didn't even know I was coming here until I'm here." Draco wondered if Harry understand what he was saying when he didn't.

"I know what you mean," Harry answered, sitting up. Draco automatically reached out to help him. Harry looked up at him, but let Draco help. Draco moved back to his seat, facing Harry.

They sat there facing each other for a long moment.

"You okay?" Once the question left his mouth Draco wanted to knock his head against the wall and die. _You don't go and ask your enemy if he's okay or not_, Draco groaned mentally.

But is he really? a voice in his head asked slyly.

"Yes, I'm normal," Harry said. People kept asking him if he was alright all the time that he was tired to answer them.

Draco raised a elegant eyebrow at that. "You're anything but normal. You're the famous Boy Who Lived, Potter."

"I'm Harry," Harry reminded Draco. "I told you already."

Draco's gaze was undeciphered as they bored into Harry's own, and then, slowly, his lips stretched and curved up into a smile, and then those lips parted, and it was definitely a laughter that came out of Draco's mouth.

Soon, Harry joined him. He didn't know why he was laughing, but Draco was laughing, genuinely, and it didn't matter to him at all.

"Well, what a surprise," a gentle, pleasant voice greeted them.

Draco and Harry stopped laughing, simultaneously turning towards the direction of the voice.

"Professor Dumbledore!" Harry exclaimed.

"Hello Harry," Dumbledore smiled and to Draco, "Hello, Draco."

Harry felt Draco tensed up beside him, and wondered why.

"I was actually wanting to speak to Draco, but since that you're here, then it saves me all the trouble," Dumbledore said cheerfully, walking over to them and sat down on a chair. "There is an arrangement for you both."

"What arrangement?" Harry asked curiously.

"For both of you to meet everyday," Dumbledore answered, his smile never wavered, even when Draco glared at him.

"Draco, I know that you have your own personal life to deal with, so the meeting with Harry won't take much of your time," Dumbledore said. "I want you two to spend two hours together after dinner everyday until Harry gets his memory back. Wherever you want. Draco, I would like very much for you to take Harry to different places, talk to him about random things, and try to answer as much of his questions as you can."

"But what about his friends?" Draco protested.

"They have the whole day to be with him," Dumbledore replied. "Unless you want me to rearrange your schedule so that you two will have the same classes for the rest of the year?"

Draco shook his head quickly. "No, thanks."

Dumbledore beamed. "Well then, I hope that you can arrange your meeting with each other, and Harry?" Harry looked up at him. "Don't be so hard on yourself." With a swish of cloak, Dumbledore was out of the door and was gone.

"What was that all about?" Draco mumbled.

Harry smiled, brightly, and shook his head. "I have no idea."

Draco glanced at Harry. "You're weird."

Harry...

P.a.R.t.T.w.E.L.v.E.d.O.n.E

c h a p t e r . t wo . e n d...

* to be continued in chapter 3 - the meeting *

* * *

A/N: Wow! Two chapters already! This chapter is finished sooner than I expected, but then again, I worked so hard, after all! Oh, and um, thanks to a reader who reviewed and pointed out to me that there aren't too many bones in a human's leg. I did a quick check up and changed that part of the first chapter. So thanks again. And many thanks and hugs and kisses to those who read my story. You all make me so happy.

I don't know when the next chapter's gonna come out, because school is about to start, and I expect lots of homework and projects, but I'll appreciate it if you don't give up on the story. This chapter is a bit longer than the one before, and a bit more detailed, much to my amazement (my head's finally working!) I like to hear suggestions if you have them, and please point out my mistakes if I do have them, which is a big possibility.

This story contained OotP spoilers, but I really hate it that Sirius's gone. If I ever going to include Professor Lupin in the story, I will definitely put Sirius in it, so don't be surprise if I do. Oh, just to let you know, I wrote the first chapter before the OotP came out, so...

I will really be happy if you readers out there review, but I won't beg ^_^


	3. The Meeting

M e m o r i e s . o f . m e...

* * * * * * * * *

C.h.a.p.t.e.r.3 - the meeting...

March, 1996...

The darkness seemed almost overwhelming as he ran past the rustling trees, feeling hundreds of invisible eyes upon him, laughing with mirth, with glee, with anticipation, of him. The leaves and broken branches under his feet snapped and cracked, as if protesting, as if telling him that it was no use running, and that he should give up... because the Dark Lord won't let him get away.

Not this time.

A vine, out of the sudden emptiness and eerie silence whipped out and curled around his right foot. Caught by the unexpected harshness of it around his ankle, the thorns digging into his flesh, he cried out and fell.

The bangs on his forehead was blown back, revealing a lightning-shaped scar, burning as if it was newly branded and brought a strangle cry out of his throat. The pain was intense... it was overwhelming, bursting with such power of hatred that he felt he could just die right then.

He lay there, face buried in his injured arm, tired and very much lonely, in every sense of word, waiting for his fate. It was over. He would never be able to see Hermione and Ron again. He would never be able to say goodbye to his friends, never...

A hand, a cold, rough hand, grabbed him by his arm and pulled. Harry jerked back instinctively, looking up as his own hand reflexively reached for his wand, and realized that it was taken away from him some time ago.

"Potter! Stop fooling around and let's go!" the voice was urgent, annoyed, and desperate.

Harry's eyes were wide as he croaked out, "P-Professor Snape?"

"No time for talk, let's go!" Snape growled, looking back behind him as if worrying something might jump out at him.

"Why?" the emptiness in Harry's voice shocked Snape into silence. "Why should I run away from him again? He would get me back, like last time, and this time. I'm so tired, I don't want to run anymore."

The slap that whipped across Harry's face echoed through the forest, receiving angry screeches and howls from within. Harry stared at the angry Professor as red, imprinted fingers appeared on his cheek, and the blood sipped out and slowly down to his mouth. Then the shock of it vanished just to replace by anger. "How dare you...?"

"You stupid, blind fool! After all your mother and father did for you, you're going to sit there and let the Dark Lord kill you? After all the Order did to protect you! After all we went through just to prevent the Dark Lord from getting his hand on a useless Gryffindor! You're just going to sit there like a nice little boy waiting for death!" Snape glared at Harry with such ferocity that Harry jumped back, but what more, was the words that hit him much more than the physical slap did: "I'm very disappointed in you."

Snape was disappointed in him, Harry thought in wonder, meaning that even though Snape hated him, wanted him gone from his eyes, like to torment him, Snape has faith in him. Meaning Snape has never doubted him, even though he liked to tell Dumbledore that every chance he got.

The man sneered and made to walk away, having enough of the Gryffindor already, and gave out a cry.

"Professor Snape!?" Harry shouted, climbing up to his feet and ran to the dark-haired man. He noticed with horror that the back of his cloak was slashed, and there was blood oozing out from it, drenching the cloak.

Harry whipped around, quick as lightning, and saw, in the clearing, a figure with blond hair, smirking at him.

Lucius Malfoy.

The raging storm flaring in the emerald eyes was the only evident as to what Harry was feeling right then.

As if in slow motion Harry saw Lucius raised his wand in a circle, and a slash across that, as his mouth opened and closed in the process of forming a spell.

A blinding red light burst out from the tip and shot through the icy air like knife through butter, toward him. Harry stood on his ground, every ounce of him surged with anger. How dare he?

The spell, inches from Harry, disappeared in a swish of gray smoke. Lucius's eyes widened with disbelief. A cruel smile passed Harry's face, and he raised his hand, palm up, and they saw a globe of fire burning there.

And in a casual movement, he threw it at Lucius Malfoy.

"Potter!" Snape's voice sounded a distant away as he fell backwards, drowning in the darkness of his mind.

P.a.R.t.T.h.I.r.T.e.E.N.d.O.n.E

November 8, 1997...

Harry woke up, drenched in sweat and panting heavily. He raised a hand to his forehead, and felt it stabbing pain into his head. When Harry looked into the mirror the other day, he saw a scar shaped like lightning on his forehead, and had asked Ron about it, but Ron refused to answer him.

Grabbing the glass of water on his bedside table, Harry drowned it down in one gulp. The pain throbbing in his head was fading quickly, and soon he wasn't sure if it was there at all.

Harry fell back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. That was a very strange dream, even though he didn't remember much of it. All he knew was that he was there, and he did something horribly wrong.

But why? Harry thought, _and that man... he looked awfully like Draco... who was he?_ Harry closed his eyes, feeling very dejected. He didn't know why he couldn't remember. It has been a week already, ever since he first woke up in the infirmary and saw all those people. From what Madame Pomfrey said the last time he went to have a check up in the hospital wing, he should have at least gotten some recollections of his past back, but he couldn't remember anything, much to his frustration. He saw some glimpses of his old time, but he couldn't exactly put them together and pull his memories back to him. All Harry knew was what his friends told him, and had simply accepted it as the truth.

Looking over at the Snitch clock, he noticed that it was seven and in one hour it was time for breakfast. Sighing, Harry sat up and got out of bed.

After a quick shower by himself (since it was too early for anyone to be awake), Harry stood in front of the mirror with a towel around his waist, staring at his reflection. His bright green eyes stood out vividly, large and childlike, and his unruly hair stuck out in every direction, curling slightly around his neck at the end, bangs falling to the sides of his face to curve at his cheekbones. A straight nose and pinkish lips looking rather timidly. The lips curved into a smile. As a seventeen-year-old, he looked just like a little boy, slender and leaned. A Seeker built, like Ron said. He suddenly remembered Draco, although a bit taller than him, was slender like him as well.

Draco was another confusion as well. He obviously didn't hate Harry like he kept insisting he was. And Draco was getting friendlier towards him, even looked worried during Potions the other day when he threw up, but he would not admit it. Why wouldn't he? Harry wondered. Ron was always so hostile around Draco, and Hermione kept making faces when he talked about the blonde. Harry wished he knew what had happened to make them hate each other so much. If he could only remember...

Just then the door into the bathroom opened, and Harry turned his head around, just to see Seamus, holding a towel and his school robes in his hands.

They looked at each other.

Seamus' eyes traveled down Harry's chest, stopped at the waistline, and looked up into Harry's eyes again.

They blushed.

"Oh, um, sorry, I - I..." Seamus stammered, gesturing to Harry and himself. "I didn't know... I thought - I mean - I didn't think - I..."

"Um, it's okay, Seamus," Harry said hastily, seeing Seamus' flaming cheeks turning redder. "I shouldn't have taken that long for a shower. I'm done now, erm, I should go."

Seamus nodded dazedly, moving aside so Harry could walk out, or rather, _run_ out and closed the door behind him, sighing.

When he looked up, his dorm mates were watching him; Ron pausing in the process of pulling his shirt on, Neville stopped trying to find his books, and Dean froze while tidying his bed...

Harry turned red. _Why did I forget to bring a set of robes along with me? _"I... er, um, just got out of shower, and um, forgot to bring my clothes with me, but..."

Dean was by his side in an instant. "Harry, Seamus didn't... do anything to you, did he?" he asked hesitantly.

Ron came over to him. "If he did, then we'll kill him!" he said venomously and made to take down the door separating him and the Irish boy.

"No! He didn't do anything, honest!" Harry said loudly. "Ron, really."

Ron looked doubtful, but didn't press the subject, much to Harry's relief.

When they came down to the common room, Hermione was waiting for them, sitting on an armchair and reading on a thick book. She smiled at Harry when the dark-haired boy came down, jumping out of her seat.

Hermione raised her eyebrows when Seamus brushed past her, practically breaking his neck running out of the tower. "What's up with him?" she asked when Ron and Harry came over.

"Ohhh, he must have done something! Otherwise he wouldn't be looking guilty and running like that," Ron growled, cracking his knuckles.

"No, Ron! He didn't!" Harry protested. Ron was so much like an overprotective brother that it was scary sometimes.

"Care to share?" Hermione poked Ron on the ribs.

Harry explained to Hermione on their way to the Great Hall for breakfast, while Ron adding a few inappropriate words now and then, much to Hermione's disapproval. Harry watched as the two of them bickering at each other. Even though they both sounded annoyed, they still had a loving, passionate air to them. Harry's eyes adverted down, and saw their joined hands. _Why would they do that?_ Harry thought curiously. _Now that I think about it, I did see lots of people do that, too._

Harry fell into steps with Hermione, eyeing her with interest. "Hermione, why do you hold hands with Ron?" he asked.

Hermione watched Harry's face, giggling. "Oh Harry, I forgot how clueless you are about these things."

"Well, answer him, Hermione," Ron said, rolling his eyes.

"Holding hands," Hermione emphasized, raising their entwined hands, "means that you like each other very much."

"Oh, um," Harry bit his lower lip, then stepped between both of them, and hold one of their hands in his. "Like this?"

Ron and Hermione laughed out loud. "Harry, honestly!" Ron said.

Hermione's laughter quieted, and she looked at him with sad eyes. "I just want you to get your memories back soon. There's so much you've forgotten. It's like I'm with you but not you at all."

"Hermione," Harry said quietly, wishing he could do something about it. He hated it when his friends were like this, depressed because of him.

"It's not your fault, Harry," Hermione said quickly. "Don't worry yourself about it. I just can't help it sometimes, you know?"

Harry's eyes were sparkling and he squeezed both of their hands, nodding.

The Great Hall was as noisy in the morning as any other time of the day. Harry's eyes immediately traveled to search for Draco, and found him sitting next to a black-haired boy, talking and laughing with each other. Harry's heart did a funny flip when he saw Draco, but he frowned deeply and felt very disappointed when Draco didn't even look at him. Silently he went with his two best friends over to the Gryffindor table.

They were a bit early today, and there weren't many in the Great Hall, much to Harry's relief, since they all seemed to have the tendency to stare at him at every chance they got. Harry ate breakfast and spoke with the friendly Gryffindors. Seamus wouldn't talk to him, and Harry wondered if he'd offended the guy in any way. Ginny was very excited today for some strange reason, because she wouldn't stop talking, until Ron told her to shut up that she did and went away to another two girls named Parvati and Lavender and started talking all over again. There was this one specific boy that carried a camera with him and kept asking Harry if he could take pictures of him. Hermione told him to go away and he did, sullenly.

Harry, on his part, couldn't help but stealing glances over to the Slytherin table. He still couldn't figure out why Draco was ignoring him, or why he looked so indifferent, as if nothing in the world mattered to him. Harry didn't think he make Draco mad, because if he did, then he must have forgotten it. God, he hoped not. He didn't want to forget anything that got to do with Draco, because... well, just because.

Harry had gotten used to seeing lots of owls swooping down on their heads every single day. Hedwig did a few times, just because she wanted to eat breakfast with him. Harry smiled. He was really fond of Hedwig. She was so lovely and sometimes, she looked as if she knew what he was thinking. Today Hedwig visited him, but she surprised him with a letter tied to her leg. Harry looked at Ron and Hermione, who urged him to open the letter to see who it was from.

Harry obeyed, and after he finished reading, he looked at them with a confused face. Hermione studied his face for a moment before taking the letter and read it herself. It said, in quick, cursive letters:

Old place. Same time.

Snuffle

"Harry," Hermione whispered, leaning closer to him while folding the paper neatly, "Snuffle is your godfather. His real name is Sirius."

"Really? I have a godfather?" Harry asked, his face brightened considerably.

"Shh, not too loud," Ron hissed.

"Why not?"

"Because, Harry," Hermione explained slowly, "they think that Sirius Black, your godfather, is a convicted murder when he's not."

"But why would they think that?" Harry's question held a bewilder tone to it.

"I can't explain here, Harry, they'll hear us," Hermione said, pulling him up. "Let's go back to the common room, I'll tell you there."

Harry nodded and the trio left the Great Hall, with Harry not knowing that a pair of eyes was watching him, loneliness and regret glowing in the depths of their eyes.

Half an hour later as Harry and his two friends walked out into the open daylight, Harry was feeling nervous. He was told that Sirius loved him very much, and that he was Harry's parents' best friend, and that they found out Sirius wasn't a murderer in their third year. They also told him many other things, too. Like how Sirius nearly died in their fifth year, when he fell into the arch, but luckily he grabbed onto the curtain and was saved. Harry was surprised to hear that he cast one of the Unforgivable Curse on the person that pushed Sirius over the arch. He seemed so violent then, Harry thought...

Harry walked past the Quidditch pitch, where a flash of image passed the emptiness in his mind. Across the Forbidden Forest, he felt the pull of its mysterious darkness drawing him closer, and they finally stopped in front of the tree that Hermione called the Whomping Willow.

"Ron, go on," Hermione said, and Ron stared at her.

"What?! Why me?" he asked indignantly. The Whomping Willow did not leave a very pleasant memory in his mind.

"Because I'm a girl and Harry doesn't know how," Hermione said matter-of-factly, smiling sweetly at her boyfriend.

Ron grumpily stepped toward the tree, ducked under a branch, taking care not to touch it, and pressed gently to a certain spot.

The tree suddenly stood straight up, frozen. Ron nodded to both of them and they walked past him into this dark passageway. Ron was quick by their side, and they hunched together as they walked, with Ron bumping to the rough surface above him now and then.

They stopped in front of a door, and Hermione raised a hand to push it open.

Harry squinted his eyes, peering into the darkness until he became used to it, and it was then something jumped onto him, huffing and licking his face madly.

That was when he panicked.

Large, gleaming eyes... flying... a black dog between the students on the stand... a cave with a man... long hair... straight nose... mischievous eyes...

Harry stared up at the man that was in his head a moment before, now shaking his shoulders roughly, watching him with worries. Behind him was Ron and Hermione, looking wary and concerned. Harry struggled to stand up, and the man helped him. "God Harry, you scared the heck out of me," he said, putting a hand to his chest. "Not hurt, are you?"

Harry shook his head. "N-no, I'm okay."

"Well, come in then, don't just stand there," he ushered them in the room and closed the door behind him. He then walked over to Harry and sat down next to him on the battered, old bed. "So, I heard you got bashed on the head by a Bludger and lost your memories?" he asked conversationally, and Harry took a liking to this man immediately.

"Yes, I did," Harry said quietly.

"Dumbledore told me about your... unusual sickness," he started.

"It's not a sickness," Hermione interrupted. "He has an amnesia."

The man waved a hand at her dismissively. "Whatever. Um, could you two go away for a bit so I can talk to my godson for a while?"

Hermione and Ron looked at each other and nodded at him, walking out and closing the door behind them.

When they were gone, the dark-haired man looked at Harry, and pulled him into his arms. "I am so sorry, Harry. I failed James and Lily again. I am a horrible godfather. I've neglected you for the past twelve years, and another five years running around leaving you in the hands of those evil people."

"It's not your fault," Harry protested, not knowing who was 'evil' and guessing that this person was Sirius. "You couldn't have done anything, you were locked away in Azkaban. And if you didn't hide, you would be dead by now."

Sirius pushed him away slightly to look in his eyes. "You remember, Harry?"

Harry shook his head. "No, Hermione and Ron told me."

Sirius's face fell, but he brightened up a bit. "It's okay! I'm here, so I could help you as much as I can now!" Sirius studied him for a long moment, which made Harry very self-conscious of himself. "You've thinned a bit since the last I saw you. Eating normally, Harry?"

"Er, yeah, I am," Harry answered hesitantly, wondering when was the last time they'd seen each other. "Three meals a day."

Sirius chuckled. "So, how's your classes? Get good grades? Make good friends? Learn more stuff?"

"Um, my classes are okay. They are quite interesting, actually, but the Potions Master is a bit... mean," Harry told him honestly.

Sirius's face changed into one of disgust. "Snape? He's one horrible person, or animal, whatever. I don't like him, no one liked him, but he saved your life, so I guess that counts for something."

"He did?" Harry asked, interested.

"Yeah, in your sixth year. You got captured by Voldemort, and he was the one who went and got you back. Although how I don't know, because no one knew where you were. Perhaps he was plotting something..." Sirius said suspiciously, even though that it was nearly half way through Harry's seventh year already. "Well, he lost his job as the double agent for Dumbledore because of it."

"Why?"

"Because one of Voldemort's supporter found out his real identity," answered Sirius.

A pull, like a string tied around his memory guiding it towards him, tugged at the back of his head, and he frowned, trying to remember. Flash, _a tree - _another flash - _running_ - another... _falling_... _a fire ball_... _a blond man_...

"Harry?"

Harry jumped slightly, looking back at his godfather. "Yes?"

"You alright, kid? You looked pretty out of it," Sirius said, a note of worry held in his voice.

"Yes, I was just remembering something," Harry said absently.

"Um, alright," Sirius said slowly.

Harry smiled at him, and he smiled back, weakly. Then...

"Okay, that's it!" Sirius cried. "Look here, Harry, I'm not good at this kind of things, so tell me if I do anything wrong, okay?"

"You didn't do anything wrong, Sirius, really," Harry reassured his godfather.

Another moment of silence passed, and this time, it was Harry who spoke. "Um, Sirius, can I ask you something?" he asked timidly.

"Of course! I'll help you the best I can," Sirius said enthusiastically.

Harry smiled brightly at him. "Oh, okay! Um, what does it mean when your heart thumps really fast and you get really hot?"

Sirius stared at him...

And burst out laughing. "Harry! That's the funniest thing I've ever heard!" Then, seeing the blushing face of his godson, Sirius stopped laughing. "You're not joking, are you?"

Slowly, he shook his head.

"Good god Harry, you really lost _all_ of your memories," Sirius said in astonishment.

"Um, if you can't answer, than that's okay," Harry said quickly, blushing redder.

"No NO! I can answer, I mean," Sirius said hastily, and then sighed. "I'm really not good at this kind of thing. Wish Remus's here."

"Who's Remus?"

"Oh, a friend of mine, and your parents," Sirius replied.

"Really? Can I see him?" Harry asked excitedly. Ever since Hermione told him that his parents died along time ago, he couldn't help but want to find out as much as he could about them, but he kept having the feeling that he'd upset his friends by asking them about it.

"Er, sure, I think," Sirius said hesitantly. "He's out on some business for a few days, but if you really want, I could ask Dumbledore and let you stay over for Christmas break. It's next month anyway. Then we all can see each other."

Harry grinned brightly at his godfather, and gave him a big hug. "Thanks, Sirius."

Sirius looked surprised, but returned Harry's hug. "You know, you really change, Harry," he said after a while.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, looking at Sirius with confused eyes.

"Well, before, you were very much to yourself, and you prefer as less human contact as much you could. You rarely talk to me at all," Sirius told him.

"I was?" astonishment was clear in Harry's voice. "Sirius, was I... really violent, then?"

"What makes you think that?"

"I don't know..." Harry said slowly. "Hermione told me that I did an Unforgivable at this person who nearly killed you."

Sirius laughed. "Don't worry about it, Harry. Anyone would've done it, I mean, that person was really evil, and hurt a lot of people, so it was okay, and you didn't really hurt her."

"I didn't?"

"No, the only way to hurt a person using the _Crucio_ is to want to do it and enjoy seeing the person being hurt. You didn't," Sirius said, smiling fondly at Harry, "and that what makes all the different."

Sirius's words lifted Harry's mood a bit. "So, Harry, back to the matter of the heart," Sirius said, almost gleefully, rubbing his hands together. "Heart thumping and feeling very hot, you say? Well, besides having a flu, the only way you could feel like that is because you like someone."

"Like someone?" Harry said, not really understanding. "But I like Ron and Hermione and you and the others, but I don't feel like that."

"Dear god, Harry, not like that!" Sirius exclaimed, laughing. "Meaning you have a crush on this one only specific person, meaning you fancy this person..."

"Oh..." Harry said, realization dawned over him.

"Yeah, so tell me, who is it?" Sirius asked, clapping Harry's shoulder.

"Um, it's Draco," Harry answered truthfully.

There was a moment in which the silence stretched as if eternity.

"WHAT?" Sirius cried. "Not that son of Lucius Malfoy?!"

"Who's Lucius Malfoy? But Draco's last name is Malfoy," Harry said.

"Bloody hell, Harry," Sirius said faintly. "I really wish you have a flu now."

"Why?" Harry said, startled.

"Draco Malfoy is not exactly the right person for you to have a crush on," Sirius said, sighing. "How long have you feel like this?"

"Um, for a few days now, after I talked with him on the Quidditch pitch, really," Harry said, remembering Draco's face, soft and glowing in the dark.

"What did you two talk about?"

"The night sky," Harry replied, smiling slightly. "He looked really worried at me for some reason, and then..."

It's fate...

Harry's eyes were heavy, eyelashes lowering. It was what Draco said, but was it really fate that they were enemies? Or was it because...

"Harry?!"

Sirius's voice brought him out of his reverie, and he smiled. "Now don't ask if I feel okay, because I will leave if you do," Harry warned.

Sirius looked at his godson for a moment, then grinned, messing up his hair. "Well, then, I won't ask. But it's really amazing how you can guess like that."

Harry just laughed at him.

P.a.R.t.F.o.R.t.E.e.N.d.O.n.E

Since today was Saturday and there were no classes, Draco decided to take a walk around the lake. It was a gray day, with specks of white clouds upon the stormy sky. It was getting colder into November, and Draco's mood was as cold as the weather itself, if not more.

Draco stuffed his hands into the pockets of his robe, watching the withering grass as he walked along the edge of the lake. When Harry entered the Great Hall that morning Draco had immediately sensed out the gaze Harry gave him, but he didn't return Harry's look. Perhaps he didn't want to, or perhaps he was afraid of what would happen if he did.

He wasn't stupid. He saw the way he changed when he was around Harry, even if the Gryffindor didn't notice - didn't understand.

This wasn't supposed to happen. Everything was supposed to be as it was before. They were supposed to hate each other, to be enemies. Everything was perfect before. He didn't want any changes. He _couldn't_ have any changes.

Draco knew what was expected of Harry, the Boy Who Lived. What was expected of _him_. There were risks that he couldn't take.

There were obstacles.

Ever since he first met Harry Potter in that robes shop years ago, Draco knew right away that he was different, otherwise he wouldn't have spoken to him at all. Even though Harry was scrawny and was wearing clothes many sizes too large for him, there was a glow around his body that drew his attention. The round, old-fashioned and broken glasses that framed his large, green eyes, staring at everything in awe. And the hair... Draco smiled slightly at the memory ... the untamable hair that stuck up in every direction, unlike Draco's neat, slicked back hair.

Now thinking back, Draco thought he sounded very spoiled (which he was, and still is) and arrogant. No wonder Harry looked a bit annoyed at him. Then on the first day of school, Draco overheard the Weasley twins talking about Harry Potter being on the train. Father had told him to make friends with Harry Potter before hand, saying that it'd do them good if Voldemort comes back, which he did.

Draco had no intention of making friends with Harry Potter, and every intention of finding that boy with bright green eyes, but he couldn't disobey his father, so grumpily he went, his two companions tagging along with him.

What that shocked him into delight was that Harry Potter was the boy he met in the robes shop.

He had been very excited, ecstatic, even. He wanted to know that boy, become friends with him, talk to him, play Quidditch with him, to do everything with him. He thought up many things they could do together, and now that he was Harry Potter himself, then everything was perfect.

Except that it wasn't.

Draco's pride was hurt, and all the things he thought they could do together were shattered to many pieces and vanished when Harry rejected his friendship. He couldn't believe Harry _rejected_ him, for a _Weasley_. He couldn't believe that when he was so honestly wanting to be friends with him, he refused... for a _Weasley_. It stabbed a pain straight to his heart, and that was when it changed. He realized then that they couldn't be friends, and his father's words came back to him...

If he ever rejected your friendship, then you can never be his friend. You will be his enemy.

And Harry's enemy he became. He'd spent every year trying to get in Harry's way, trying to get him in trouble, even though he failed every time.

It was he who asked his father to help him get into the Quidditch team as a Seeker. Draco didn't like his position at all, simply because he thought he was a better Keeper, but Harry was a Seeker, therefore that made him want to be one as well. Beating Harry at Quidditch was the goal Draco had been trying to achieve every since he first played against him. So far it didn't work.

As time went by Draco noticed something else that was different. He no longer wanted to outdo Harry, and that all the things he done to Harry was to get the Gryffindor to notice him. He realized that during the summer before sixth year, when his father was arrested to Azkaban.

Oh, Draco absolutely detested Harry at that moment, because his father, even though a Death Eater, was a good father, and Draco thought he had lost his father forever (but he didn't). He spent his every waking moment hating Harry and every sleeping moment dreaming about what he would do when he get his hands on Harry, and that was to beat him senseless until he beg and plead for mercy.

Near the end of the summer, his hatred for Harry still didn't waver, and to his horror Draco found that he couldn't stop thinking about him.

Harry was his obsession, and coming to that realization was as painful to him as when he lost his grandmother when he was five.

Draco had made himself believe that the only reason why he was so obsessed with Harry was because Harry was his enemy. Draco spent his sixth year making himself believe that he hated Harry, that Harry was the one who took his father away from him, that Harry always beat him at everything, that Harry was his family's enemy...

It worked. He totally and firmly believed that he hated Harry, until... well, until the incident a week ago.

Harry was like a completely different person. At first Draco didn't think much of it, but then it was Harry's words that made him question his feelings all over again.

I don't want to be your enemy, Harry had said, and for a heartbreaking moment Draco forgot that Harry has an amnesia. The bitterness in him rose to surface at those words... _of course you want to be my enemy, _he had said, because what other reason would Harry refuse his friendship all those years ago?... _you want to be my enemy from the start._..

It was excruciating to relive the things he'd long forgotten, and it was even more so when he has to go through all the questions of doubt he thought he had gotten over with. Why was it that whenever you thought you had gotten over it, it came up and ruin your life again?

The civil conversations with Harry, no matter how short, imprinted in his mind like many scars. Unfadable because of the person he was speaking to, unwanted because of the pretense he had to uphold.

And then, he realized that, after all this time believing - pretending to be Harry's enemy, what he wanted was what he could never have.

Harry's love.

P.a.R.t.F.i.F.t.E.e.N.d.O.n.E

The enchanted ceiling in the Great Hall was a color of grayish-black, indicating that it will rain any moment soon. Dinner was almost over, and Ron, along with Hermione, had stopped eating some time ago to speak with Harry.

"Now Harry, if he dare trying to hurt you, remember the hex I taught you," Hermione said seriously.

"Yeah, and tell us, so we could go and tell Dumbledore," Ron added.

"And don't you worry about one thing he'll say, it's never true, anyway," Hermione told him as an afterthought.

Harry nodded absently, his mind elsewhere. After the talk he had with Sirius, he was very unsettled. He didn't understand how having a crush on Draco was a bad thing. If that was the case, then does Seamus having a crush on him consider to be a bad thing as well? From the way everyone acted and teased Seamus about it, he didn't think so. So why would Draco be an exception?

"Harry, are you listening to me?" Ron's voice finally registered in his mind.

"Yes," Harry said quickly, "of course I was."

"Dinner's almost over," Hermione said, standing up, and so did he and Ron. "Be careful around Malfoy, Harry, don't ever turn your back when he's there. And remember..."

"The hex you taught me, I know Hermione," Harry said, smiling at Hermione. "Thanks."

Hermione nodded at him, waving him out of the Great Hall as she saw Draco standing up on the other side, walking out swiftly.

Harry said goodbye to both of his friends and exited after Draco.

After the double door closed behind him, Harry saw Draco standing against the wall, his arms crossed and face cast down. Draco was determined not to look at him, even when Harry was standing next to the blonde.

"Hello," was Harry's quiet greeting.

"Hi," Draco muttered back.

"Um," Harry said, feeling very awkward, "where are we going?"

Draco didn't reply right away. Instead, he looked up at the ceiling, then back down to his hands, took a deep breath, and looked, for the first time throughout dinner, at Harry.

Draco nearly doubled back at the expression Harry was giving him. Wide, confused eyes, silently asking why Draco was avoiding him, asking if Draco know how much he was upset because of it? The sadness on Harry's face was so plain that Draco almost sais sorry.

"Where do you want to go?" Draco asked instead, looking away.

Harry ignored Draco's question, and purposely stepped in front of Draco. "Are you avoiding me?" he asked, hurt visible in his voice, his eyes searching Draco's face.

"No, I'm not." Draco was disgusted at himself once the words left his mouth. _I'm such a liar_.

"You're lying," Harry said.

Draco didn't even bother to defend himself, and his silence was all that Harry needed. "Why are you avoiding me?" Harry asked in a small whisper. "Did I - if I did anything wrong, then you should tell me so I..."

"NO! No, you didn't do anything wrong," Draco said hurriedly. "Really." _I'm the wronged one here_.

Before Harry could ask another question, Draco grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the Great Hall. "Come on, Harry, we can't stay here or else people'll see."

Harry didn't even listen, his attention was on the pale hand that hold his.

Holding hands means that you like each other very much. 

Draco was holding his hand, Harry thought in wonderment, does that mean that Draco likes...? Harry didn't finish his thought, because something Draco said had finally passed through his head.

Draco called him Harry.

Harry raised his head to look at Draco's face, smiling to himself. _Draco is holding my hand and he called me Harry_. A funny feeling fluttered in his stomach, and he couldn't help but let out a giggle.

Draco turned to look at Harry. "What's so funny?"

Harry shook his head, still giggling. "Nothing," he smiled cheerfully, unconsciously leaning closer to the blonde.

"Alright," Draco said doubtfully, and then, he told Harry, "I've decided where we should go to."

Harry's smile was brighter than the sun as he nodded at Draco, who was curious at his sudden change of mood, but all the same feeling pleasantly warm inside at that smile, directed at _him_.

A few minutes later they were standing before the Forbidden Forest, with Harry sending Draco a questioning look.

"This is the Forbidden Forest," Draco said, gesturing to the darkness behind the trees. "I think you had some really unforgettable, or otherwise," he added as an afterthought, "memories that connected to it."

Draco took a step closer to the forest, guiding Harry along with him. Harry didn't question the blonde, but followed him, holding his hand all this time. Draco noticed Harry's hand in his was sweating, and jumped slightly. Harry's hand... in _his_? Glancing down, Draco groaned mentally. When did he take Harry's hand? And why didn't Harry say anything about it? Now that he thought about it, _why_ would Harry let him...? Out of the corner of his eyes Draco saw the other, face illuminated in the dark with a glow that seemed to be coming from within.

Harry's hair was gently blowing back along the night's breeze, leaving his infamous scar unobscured to those who look.

Draco was mesmerized by Harry's eyes, glowing a mellow green color, and with the glasses over them, the eyes were glazed over as if in a daze. Draco didn't speak and continued to watch Harry.

Harry, meanwhile, was caught in flashes of his past. _A blond boy holding a lamp... slithering cloak that hisses that him in a breathy whisper... his scar is in pain... a man with four legs, clopping towards him... _another image... _spiders everywhere, a familiar redhead walking along him, following the crawling creatures... large eyes blinking at him... more spiders rounding on both of them... a screeching noise, then a car..._ he gasped back as more images followed... _a werewolf dashing off behind the trees of the forest... dragons breathing fires, chained and controlled by a dozen men... a giant tied to trees, howling and struggling against its bond... centaurs aiming their arrows at them, very unfriendly... a toad-faced woman screaming as she is carried by one of the four-legged creatures... fleshless, black skin clinging to every bone on the horse-like creatures... bending to lick at a freshly cut meat, leathery wings stretched widely..._

Harry was sobbing, Draco noticed, but he wasn't screaming like every other time he remembered something. The Gryffindor's hand was sweating like mad in his, and other hand was raised to his face in a gesture of defense, as if blocking something foul away. Harry was muttering something, his eyes shut tight, and Draco, alarmed, grabbed his shoulder and gave a violent shake. "Harry!"

Harry's eyes snapped open in shock, his lower lip trembling as he stared up into Draco's worried eyes. "Harry...?"

Without a word Harry stepped forward, let go of Draco's hand, and pressed his forehead to Draco's chest.

A twinge of feeling tugged at his heart at Harry's action, and Draco was left frozen to the spot. He stared far ahead, feeling Harry's hands gripped at his cloak, feeling the other boy's shoulders shook silently. Incoherent thoughts passed through his head in a haze, and he knew he has to pay attention to them, but how can he when all of his attention was on Harry?

It took a few moments for Draco's arms to work properly, and once his senses came back to him, without a hesitation Draco raised his arms and put them around Harry.

It felt odd, not just because this was the first time he had ever tried to comfort someone, but because it was Harry he was comforting. Harry wasn't that short and small, but he fitted in Draco's arms as if he was _made_ to be hold by him, _only_ him.

Draco didn't say anything, not a word of comfort, not a sound, because somehow, it felt as if it wasn't enough. So Draco just hold him, running one hand through Harry's thick, soft hair, a gesture he'd wanted to do for such a long time, but not knowing why, and down his back in a soothing manner. He breathed in deeply, mesmerized by Harry's scent, a faint morning fragrant mixed with the smell of his shampoo. If this could only last forever...

Gradually Harry's sob quieted and the shaking stopped, but Harry didn't try to pull away, nor did Draco let Harry go.

They stood there in silence, silhouetted against the eerie darkness, neither moving nor speaking, just standing there, just feeling _content_ being with each other.

It was some time later that Harry broke the silence in a cracked voice. "All the things I've seen... in my head, they were terrible. The faces... the things that happened... the creatures... all of them were so..." An intake of breath, followed by a shudder, and Draco found himself tightened his arms around the other boy.

He had never given a thought to what that Harry must have been through. He had always believed that everything happened in Harry's life was perfect... everyone praised him for something he did when he was one year old, friends who stood by his side, a headmaster that looked over him, but the way Harry reacted to his memories, the way he had been just then, made Draco think everything over.

Draco patted Harry's head, a gesture so unfamiliar yet so _right_. "You're okay, Harry," Draco said in a breathy voice, watching as a puff of cold air formed as he spoke.

"No," Harry said tightly, "no, I'm not okay at all. I don't know who those people are, I don't know what happened to cause the things I saw, and I have no clue as to why it's not alright to have a crush on you."

Draco's hand stopped dead midway down Harry's back as each word Harry spoke made itself understood in his mind. _... not alright to have a crush on_... "W-what?" Draco croaked out, grabbing Harry's shoulders with shaky hands and made the Gryffindor look at him in the eyes.

Harry couldn't be serious, he just couldn't...

"Draco...?" Harry said nervously, seeing the disbelief clearly on Draco's face, his dark stormy eyes wild with emotions.

"You said... was it true, Harry? Do you really..." Draco couldn't finish the sentence, and instead stared at Harry as if _willing_ the question into Harry's head, as if willing Harry to answer him with completely truth.

Harry seemed to understand, and nodded. "Yes," he whispered, eyes casting down, and in a unfocused whisper, he added, "very much."

The sounds that was heard in the night seemed to maximized ten times louder as Draco's hands slipped down Harry's shoulders, brushing against the cloak Harry was wearing. The gray eyes were darker than ever, frosted over as they stared past Harry, at something invisible. His heartbeat was pounding deafeningly in his ears as Harry's confirmation repeated itself over and over again in his mind.

No, he thought wildly... desperately, _this cannot be true. This cannot be..._

When Draco spoke next, his voice was even and calmer than he felt. "The two hours are up, you can go back to the Gryffindor Tower now."

Without waiting for Harry, Draco turned sharply, and strode swiftly towards the entrance into the castle, leaving the Gryffindor there, stunned at his actions, watching his retreating back.

The rain had finally poured.

P.a.R.t.S.i.X.t.E.e.N.d.O.n.E

c h a p t e r . T H R E E . e n d...

* to be continued in chapter 4 - the misunderstanding *

* * *

A/N: Well, what do you know, I finished this chapter so quickly! After I told you guys this chapter won't be out as fast because of school, I looked back at the calendar, and guess what? School won't start until another week! So here I am, writing my second A/N and saying how much you all had inspired me to write this chapter more quickly. Have you noticed something? Chapter three is longer, with only four parts. At this rate, I might be able to finish a story I work on out of the dozens I've been writing for the past one and half years. I've written over twenty stories of Harry/Draco and I haven't finished one, except the one-shots I wrote. And I remember I did write this one James/Lily story, my first work, and finished it! Except I lost it, :( Well, in the next chapter Draco will think it over, and Hermione and Ron know about this crush Harry have on Draco, and their reaction? Oh, just peachy... not! I'm thinking of putting in a _little_ hint of what happened in their sixth year. Oh, and if you want to ask if it's just the memories-less Harry that has a crush on Draco, or the not memories-less Harry that has a crush on Draco, that'll have to wait, 'cause I'm not answering :p But I did drop hints like mad in all three of the chapters (mostly this chapter).

No promises on when the next chapter will be out, hopefully soon. Oh, and I also have another story I'm working on, _Roses and Thorns_, but right now I have writer's block, or rather, I have to write the whole chapter 1 and 2 again so I'm lazy, and writer's block is just a poor excuse. I rather like the plot of RaT (the initials spelled rat!), but I have no idea how to finish it. So I'll post it up whenever I do, okay?

Many thanks to those who read and reviewed, and those who read and didn't review. You all are the reason why I worked so hard on this chapter.

Like this chapter? Drop a review!


	4. The Doubts

M e m o r i e s . o f . m e...

* * * * * * * * *

C.h.a.p.t.e.r.4 - the doubts...

May, 1997...

The night was cold as he walked along the dark corridors of Hogwarts, hidden underneath the Invisibility Cloak. His footsteps reverberated quietly against the walls, and he wrapped his arms around himself, hoping to get some warmth into his freezing body. He wished he had worn something warmer instead of just his pajamas, but it was no use wishing now; he was too far from the Gryffindor Tower to go back.

Blinking as his green eyes raised to look around, wondering where he was, the boy nearly slipped down a moving staircase. Breathing heavily at the close situation, he turned around to continue his midnight stroll, when he heard something.

It was a small, deep kind of sound, coming from inside the old, wooden door far ahead. The sound got louder and louder still as he approached it, cautiously gripping his wand in hand. Years of experience told him never to let his guard down for anything.

When he was right in front of the door, he hesitated to go in. There was no doubt what that sound was now.

Music.

He made to open the door, and with a brief pause, pushed it open.

The door creaked silently, unnoticeable under the music. He stepped in, and closed the door behind him.

The room was a small one, he observed, with a wide window on the opposite side of the door and an unused fireplace. And then, next to the window, was the source that was making the music.

He closed his eyes, letting the wave of strong, angry, confused, sorrowful music reach his ears. Each note seemed so emotional, as if every feeling was poured into them. And after a while, he could actually hear_ the anger, the confusion, and what's more, the unspoken questions that were so meaningful, yet, weren't made understood in his mind, simply because they weren't _his_ questions._

They were the other's.

Then all sounds came to an abrupt stop, startling him out of his dream-like state, and that was when he saw who was in the room, beside him.

A pale figure, with arms around a string instrument, and head resting on them, mumbled something. He strained to hear, and caught a few words, like 'not true' and 'hate him' and also 'why'.

He felt a bit guilty, as if he was intruding personal space of the other occupant of the room, and he was. Raising his hand he pulled down the hood of his cloak, and cleared his throat loudly.

The blonde's head snapped up and he was jerked out of his thoughts quite rudely, glancing around wildly, coming to a stop when he saw a head floating in the air, and did the most natural thing he could do at that moment.

He stared.

Green eyes closed themselves and he cleared his throat again, feeling his face heated up in discomfort at the stare, and that was when the other person reacted.

"Potter!" the blonde exclaimed, standing up hastily and nearly knocked down his instrument in his haste.

"Malfoy," Harry said quietly, taking off his cloak.

"What are you doing here?" Draco asked angrily. "You're not supposed to be here!"

Harry snorted. "Yeah, like you're any better."

Draco's unruly state was once a calm exterior as a smirk stretched across his face. "I, unlike you, is a prefect, Potter, and as a prefect I get to go whenever and wherever I like."

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but found that it was true, and closed his mouth again, glaring at Draco. "I was just wondering what that sound was and just came by to check it out. Unfortunately it was coming from you," Harry spat.

"Well, you can go now, there's nothing for you to see," Draco said dismissively, waving his hand and turned back to take the instrument in his hands, grabbing the bow on the chair he was sitting.

Harry didn't leave, and inclined his head a bit at the instrument in Draco's hands. "What's that?"

Draco glanced back at him, and sighed. "This is a cello, Potter," he said, stepping aside so the object was in full view for Harry to see. "Can you go now?"

Harry came closer, ignoring Draco's protest, and kneeled down in front of the cello. In the dim moonlight Harry could see that this thing was very expensive, and beautiful, too. The wood was made of mahogany, Harry suspected, with a clear, shinny coat painted over. It was also very carefully kept, too, without any scratches or such, Harry noted with a hint of awe. Draco did not struck Harry as that kind of person who cared for anything. Harry plucked a string, and a deep, vibrating sound rumbled out and Harry jumped back. It didn't sound like when Draco was playing.

"Be careful with that," Draco warned, "because not even money can get you out of it if you ruin this thing."

Harry tilted his head to look at Draco, standing there with an expression akin to worry as he looked at his cello. "Why?" Harry asked curiously.

"Because someone gave it to me," was Draco short answer. "If you're done inspecting it, then go away."

"Why do you have to be so unfriendly, Malfoy?" Harry said with annoyance, standing up.

"Because I'm talking to a heartless bastard," Draco answered easily, remembering the event six years ago, on the train to Hogwarts as a first year.

"Look who's talking," Harry said with a snort, then he paused, and added in a quiet mutter, "not really."

Draco gave a startled jump at that. "What? Why aren't I heartless?"

Harry smiled slightly, walking over to the window and rested his folded arms on the windowsill. "Because you saved me," Harry replied, beginning to count the stars above. One, two, three, four...

"I've never saved you," Draco said quickly, looking away and mentally slapping his horrible lying self.

"You're lying," Harry said, seven stars, eight...

"What do you know, Potter?!" Draco snarled, sitting down on the chair, and positioned the cello fittingly between his legs, placing the bow on the string after he did so.

"Oh, a lot, actually," Harry answered airily, eyes became sad as a star he saw suddenly disappeared. Before Draco could argue with him, Harry jumped in, "Don't deny it, Snape told me everything."

Draco cursed under his breath, putting his fingers down on the second lowest string, G, and tested the sound. He frowned, listening to the out of tune rumble that echoed in the room, and moved to tune it.

"I didn't know you play an instrument," Harry remarked.

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me," Draco said, plucking the string again.

Harry glanced at the blonde, then back to the vast sky above. "The same goes to you, Malfoy." A long moment of silence passed between them, in which Draco paused altogether on his task, and Harry just watched as the stars glimmered and slowly vanished under the black clouds.

"Of course I know things about you," Draco said, a hint of bitterness. "You have everything. People like you. They worship you like God. And," he added, "you have good friends."

Harry smiled, almost sadly - humorlessly, and beckoned Draco over to him. Draco didn't move at first, then stood up and was soon standing next to Harry.

The Gryffindor pointed to the darkness and said, "Look up there, what do you see?"

"Bunch of stars, why?" Draco said, wondering where Harry was going with this.

"And what are stars?" Harry asked, and smiled when he saw the blank expression of the blonde. "Are they just some small, pretty things that shine in the night? Or are they something else?"

Draco didn't know.

"People look at them, but not many care to find out what they're made of. They just see what on the outside, and never bother to look for what's inside." Harry looked at Draco, his face wiped off of all emotions.

The bewildered face caused Harry's mouth to curved up into a smile. Draco had never thought of it in this point of view. He heard many people talk about Harry, as if the boy was God himself, and just assumed that it was true.

"The sky is so mysterious," Harry said dazedly.

"Just like you." The words left Draco's mouth before he'd even thought about it.

Harry laughed. "I'm no mystery, Malfoy. If you take time, you'll see."

It was some time later that Harry's words registered in his mind. "Why would I waste my time on you?!"

"You wasted your time telling Snape that I was at the Malfoy Manor in the hands of Voldemort a few months ago, why not waste more time to find out things about me?" Harry asked, amused when Draco spluttered indignantly, not knowing what to say. Harry waved a hand absently. "Forget it, Malfoy. You_ wouldn't understand." His tone was one of disappointment, for some unknown reason to Draco._

Another period of silence passed over them, and it was Draco who broke it. "I hate you, you know?" he commented.

Very much...

"I know," Harry smiled, "and I hate you too."

With passion...

P.a.R.t.S.e.V.e.N.t.E.e.N.d.O.n.E

Ron and Hermione stood outside of the seventh year boy dorm, looking at each other with hesitation.

It was after breakfast, and they had come back to check on Harry, who told Ron that he wasn't feeling well and wasn't going to breakfast with them. Ron had agreed to leave Harry alone and ushered the others away and warned them not to disturb Harry or else.

Harry had been really strange ever since he came back to the Gryffindor Tower last night. Ron and Hermione were waiting for him in the common room when he came in, drenched in rain, looking very confused and miserable. Hermione had cleaned him up with a Drying and a Warming Charm, asking if he was alright. Harry didn't reply and told them that he was very tired and wished to be alone, and went straight to bed at nine thirty.

He didn't come out of his bed ever since then.

Ron opened the door and both of them entered the dorm, walking over to Harry's bed. With a brief pause Hermione pushed aside the curtains, revealing a sleeping Harry, and gave a startled jump.

The black-haired boy was moaning incoherently, tossing around. His blanket was somewhere on the floor, and even so, his red face was sweating and his pajama was damped.

"Oh my god," Ron's mouth finally formed words, "Hermione, we should go."

"Why?" Hermione asked.

"Because I don't think he'd appreciate it if we stand here and watch him having an... erotic dream," Ron answered matter-of-factly, and Hermione thwacked him on the head.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Ronald Weasley!" Hermione said exasperatedly, sitting down on the bed and put her hand on Harry's forehead, then she withdrew it quickly. "Oh, Ron! He's burning up!"

"What?!" Ron exclaimed as Hermione pulled Harry into her arms.

"Harry, Harry, wake up," Hermione said gently, one hand shaking his shoulder with exaggerated care.

Harry's eyes opened slowly, heavily, as if it was taking him an effort just to do so. "Hermione?" he said in a breathy whisper. "Ron?"

"Harry, you alright?" Ron asked, sitting down.

Harry shook his head, then stopped abruptly, as if his head was causing him pain. "I'm so cold, Hermione."

"God, Harry, it's okay," Hermione said soothingly, turning to Ron. "I think he has a fever, Ron, go get Madam Pomfrey."

Ron nodded and dashed out of the dorm, passing Seamus as he did so. "What's the hurry?" Seamus called to the redhead, but Ron didn't reply and soon vanished from sight. Seamus shrugged and entered the room, just to see Hermione sitting on Harry's bed.

"Hermione! This is a boy dorm!" Seamus cried, running over to her, and upon seeing Harry, flushed face and sweating, he forgot everything about Hermione and pulled Harry away from her. "Harry, Harry!" he said, worry evident in his voice.

Harry's eyes opened and closed, and without a word, he passed out, one thought rang in his mind.

Draco...

P.a.R.t.E.i.G.h.T.e.E.n.D.o.N.e

November 10, 1997...

Lucius Malfoy was a good father. He acted like one, he gave Draco everything he wanted, did everything for him, and despite the idea some people came up that Lucius was very violent towards his family, he wasn't. In fact, Lucius has never laid a hand on Draco... not violently and definitely not lovingly. No, Lucius has never even shown any sign of love towards his own son... not in words and never in gestures. Draco had thought that the things Lucius done for him was enough to show his love, but no. No. As he grew older and understand things better, he realized that it wasn't that at all. When he was ten Draco had made the mistake of asking his father if he'd ever loved him, and the answer was etched in his mind for life.

Lucius had looked at Draco with the dark eyes of a man that was unfeeling, or has not felt in a long time, and said, _You are the heir to the Malfoy family. And as such will receives what he wants, but love, Draco, that is something no Malfoy must feel_.

From that day on, Draco had never spoken or shown any sign of love towards anyone again.

Well, perhaps except one.

He'd made himself cold and cruel. He practiced the Unforgivable Curses on creatures in the Malfoy Manor and had not felt a pang of guilt. He never get too close to anyone, in hope that he would never feel the forbidden feeling. Why? Because he was a Malfoy. And Malfoys don't love. All the things he'd done was in vain. Why? Because of Harry Potter.

Maybe it was because he'd been lonely for too long. Or maybe it was fate. But whatever it was, it made him, Draco Malfoy, felt love for the first time. Even though he denied it over and over again, he knew it was true. And just until recently that he admitted it, but accept it? That'll need time.

As if that wasn't enough for him, Harry had to go and tell him... _that_. It was too much for him, and without knowing what to do, Draco left Harry there in front of the Forbidden Forest that day, engrossed in thoughts as muddled as many tangled strings.

In his confused state Draco had believed that it was the worst thing he could have done to make Harry like him, and that it was all his fault. Confusion turned into anger which directed at Harry. How dare Harry made him feel the way he does? And then anger shaped itself into something else, and that something else became another feeling, and it was all so confusing in his head that he'd promised himself not to ever talk to Harry again. Then everything would be better and he won't feel like this even though he knew he was lying to himself.

There was something else he was afraid of also. Something that has driven him to spend nights sleepless in thoughts.

Does _Harry_ really have a crush on him? Or was it just the new Harry with the new personality only? Draco didn't want to be with Harry of the fear that if the Gryffindor ever regains his memories, they will turn back to enemies, and Harry will be disgusted at Draco for taking advantage of him while he was vulnerable and memories-less. He didn't want that to happen. He didn't want to have Harry for one day and find himself losing him the next day. It would be unbearable, and Draco didn't think he could take it if it happens.

So, what other better way was there but not getting involved with Harry at all?

With that thought made up in his mind, Draco was determined not to speak with Harry anymore, until, well, until yesterday morning. Weasley had come running toward him and almost strangled him to death, yelling that it was his fault Harry caught a really terrible fever and was in delirium and many other things about Draco that raged him into cursing the redhead until he was beyond recognition even by his girlfriend.

They both got a detention for that.

The window was open, letting the night breeze slipped in, along with the moonlight to lit up the darkness of the infirmary, even if just dimly. It was well past midnight now, and Draco found himself, against his better judgment, sitting here by Harry's side once again. He just couldn't help it. When he heard Harry was in delirium, he was so worried that he couldn't even concentrate in class. Up to the point that he couldn't even eat and couldn't sleep and had to go to see Harry for himself to make sure that the green-eyed boy was alright.

Harry obviously wasn't.

It's been over a day and Harry's fever hasn't died down. He'd overheard Hermione and Ron talking about Harry in Potions, saying that Harry was mumbling incoherent things in his delirious state. From the looks Ron kept shooting him, Draco has no doubt of what Harry was saying.

Seamus Finnigan was also watching him like a hawk. For the whole day wherever Draco was he would feel those blue eyes bored into him, and as much as he hated to admit it, it freaked him out.

Draco's expression was gentle as he reached out and wiped some strands of hair out of Harry's eyes, and ran his fingers through the soft texture.

Harry gave a little sigh, bringing Draco out of his train of thoughts to look at the no longer troubling face. Draco gave a small smile. Harry looked so very childlike when he sleeps, childlike and very... well, innocent was it, but it was kind of strange to describe someone who'd been through so much and know too much with such a word.

Draco's hand left the flushed face to grasped at Harry's smaller one. Harry's hand wasn't smooth and flawless like his, but it was soft and very nice to the touch. With both hands, Draco raised Harry's own to press it lightly to his lips. His heart gave a tiny tug, and Draco closed his eyes. If it could have been anyone else, _anyone_, besides Harry, it would be so, so much easier. He wouldn't have to endure all the feelings that surged up to surface within him, feelings he had forgotten - had been wrapped up in what he made himself feel - in _fake_ emotions.

Fake hatred.

"Oh Harry," the word escaped Draco's lips, grazing Harry's knuckles. And then he whispered Harry's name over and over again, until, finally, Harry replied,

"Draco..."

Draco's head jerked up, staring at Harry's face in disbelief, but the boy was still soundly asleep, a slight smile sketched across his face. Draco tentatively reached out and brushed his fingers lightly against Harry's lips, feeling a breathy sigh tickled his fingers. He ran a thumb over them, soft and red, like a rose petal. The lips opened, and his name was uttered once more, quietly... _lovingly_.

And Draco was leaning down on Harry before he knew it, until their faces were millimeters apart and he could feel Harry's breath on his skin, feeling the closeness of those lips before his, and at the last moment, he raised his head and kissed Harry's temple, muttering, "Please don't get your memories back." Another feathery kiss on the cheek. "Don't _ever_ get your memories back."

Then Draco stood up, giving Harry one last longing gaze, and abruptly turned and was gone in an instant.

In his haste, Draco didn't notice the smile on Harry's face vanished, and a single tear - just one - stained his cheek, running down the place where Draco had kissed him just moment before.

The black clouds outside shifted, and the moon was completely covered, leaving the infirmary soaked in darkness.

P.a.R.t.N.i.N.e.T.e.E.n.D.o.N.e

Harry woke up the next morning, disoriented and a bit tired. Before his head can clear itself up, voices reached his ears like thunders.

"Oh my god, Harry!" Hermione cried. "I was so worried!"

"Are you alright, mate?" Ron asked worriedly - loudly.

"Harry, you had me so scared," Ginny wailed.

And then there were the professors, standing behind his friends sending concerned and questioning looks towards his direction. It was until he thought his poor head couldn't take it anymore, and he did sway a bit unsteadily, that Madam Pomfrey snapped at all of them to be quiet, and they did, much to Harry's relief.

Professor Dumbledore stepped forward, smiling warmly at Harry, a smile which always make Harry relax. "Well then, I trust that you no longer feel sick?" Dumbledore asked kindly, his blue eyes twinkled.

"No, Professor," Harry replied.

"It's a miracle, Harry!" Hermione said, throwing her arms around him. "You were so sick yesterday that we thought the fever would never _ever_ die down, but you're okay now! This is so amazing!"

Harry smiled at her, his eyes sad. "I suppose."

Hermione pulled away, and looked at the professors hesitantly. Dumbledore chuckled to himself. "Come, my friends, and leave the children to their friend," the headmaster said, waving at the teachers.

Hermione gave him a thankful look. When the door closed, Hermione looked back at Harry. "Harry, is there something you're not telling me?" she asked.

Harry's eyes flickered, then it was gone. "I don't know," he said.

Ron and Hermione looked at each other, and to Ginny. "Ginny, out," Ron ordered.

"You can't order me around, Ronald Weasley!" she huffed.

"Out or I'll tell Harry you have pictures of him all around your room and you even have his old toothbrush," Ron threatened. Hermione looked at Ron exasperatedly while Ginny turned red and ran out of the infirmary. "What?" Ron shrugged, then paused. "Oh, I told him, didn't I?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Ron."

"She has my pictures in her room?" Harry asked, looking surprised.

Ron glanced at him. "Yeah, she likes you, you know? Even though she said she didn't anymore," Ron said, then sat down on the bed. "What's up with you and Malfoy?"

Harry gave a startled jump. "Nothing is. Why?"

"Harry, you kept calling his name in your delirious state, and something about enemy or whatever," Hermione told him.

"I did?"

"Yeah, and you nearly gave Seamus a heart attack, calling him _Draco_ before you passed out," Hermione added and touched his hand. "Why did you?"

Harry hesitated, then in a quiet voice, said with complete and absolute true: "I have a crush on him."

Ron and Hermione stared at him.

Then Ron burst out laughing. "You're joking, right?"

Hermione glared at him, and he stopped, looking at Harry's blushing face. "Oh my god," Ron uttered, shocked.

"Ron, I'm sorry. I - I said something wrong, didn't I?" Harry said, looking very sorry.

Hermione pulled him into her arms and gave Ron another glare which say 'you thoughtless idiot' and assured Harry, "Don't worry about it, Harry, but I must say, I am quite... surprised."

Harry didn't say anything, his long eyelashes covered the green eyes.

"Harry, how do you know you like him?" Hermione asked slowly. "For all I know, you could be liking him as a friend..." Ron gave a faint noise in his throat.

Harry shook his head. "Sirius told me I don't like him as a friend."

"Sirius?" Hermione said. "Why would Sirius know anything about this?"

"I asked him about it when he came, and he told me," Harry answered.

"Well, that is an interesting turn," Hermione said thoughtfully. "How long have you liked him?"

"Um, for some days now, when he came to visit the last time I was here," Harry said.

"The last time?" Ron asked, confused.

"You weren't there, and he came in the early morning."

"He didn't do...?" Hermione began, but Harry cut her off.

"No, Hermione, he didn't do anything to me. Why must you all assume that if he's near me, he'll hurt me?"

Hermione and Ron exchanged look. "Harry, he can't be trusted. His father works for Voldemort, and he's been getting us in troubles for as long as we've been here."

"But he isn't like that," Harry protested. "He's really nice to me. He would never hurt me." The words were spoken with sincerity and trust that surprised his friends to no end.

"Harry, he could be plotting something," Ron said.

"No!" Harry cried, covering his ears. "Draco wouldn't! He's the one who saved me from Voldemort!"

Harry's eyes widened at his own words, and he stared at his friends in shock, while they stared back at him.

"Malfoy saved you from Voldemort?" Hermione asked faintly.

"You've never told us..." Ron said, a bit accusingly.

"I... I..." Harry stammered. "How did I...?"

"Harry, think, try to remember, please," Hermione said, shaking his shoulders.

Harry closed his eyes, and flashes of lights came to him. _Snape sneering... "You'd be dead if it wasn't for Draco."... confusion... "What are you talking about?"... "Draco was the one who owled and let me know where you were."... _Harry frowned deeper, trying to pull out more... _"Why aren't I heartless?" startled voice... "Because you saved me," a simple answer..._ and then the event was rushing back into his mind, and with a jerk, his eyes snapped open.

"He saved me," Harry whispered.

P.a.R.t.T.w.E.n.T.y.D.o.N.e

November 11, 1997...

"Malfoy."

Draco whipped around, then sighed in relief when he realized who called him. "Finnigan."

It was after dinner and Draco was making his way back to the Slytherin Dungeon, deep in thoughts, or he was, anyway.

Seamus stepped closer to Draco and said, "I want to talk to you."

"There's nothing to talk about," Draco sneered and turned to walk away, when Seamus jumped in front of him. Draco's eyes narrowed. "Get out of my way, Finnigan."

"I want to talk to you about Harry," Seamus said, completely ignoring Draco's command.

The word 'Harry' had a magical effect on Draco. The sneer on his face was wiped off, and his body tensed. "Is he alright?"

Seamus mentally glared at Draco. The suspicion in his heart was now confirmed. "He's fine, but there's something you and I need to talk about."

Draco gave Seamus a distrust look, then nodded. "Alright, but not here."

Draco led Seamus into one of the old classroom and shut the door behind him, turning around to face the Gryffindor. "Okay, Finnigan, you wanted to talk, so talk," Draco said, crossing his arms.

Seamus didn't feel like beating around the bush anyway. "What's Harry to you?"

"What is he?" Draco raised an eyebrow. "I have no idea what you're..."

"Don't play dumb with me, Malfoy!" Seamus said angrily. "There must be a reason why he kept calling your name like that!" Then Seamus quieted, a bit shocked at his outburst.

Draco's facade broke for a moment, then he regained it back quickly, masking his feelings. "Why don't you go and ask him? It's he who's done the calling, not me."

Seamus ignored that, and proceeded with his next question. "Do you like Harry?"

"I don't like him," Draco said, crossing his arms. _It's more than that_.

Seamus looked a bit dejected, but pressed on. "Then you must have some idea if he likes you or not." He didn't sound like he wanted to know, Draco observed with some amusement.

"Interesting," Draco mused. "You want to know if Harry likes you or not. Does that mean you like him, Finnigan? Are you jealous?"

Seamus blushed deeply. "I-I'm not," he stammered.

"You Gryffindors are so bad at lying," Draco mocked. _What about you?_ a small voice whispered at the back of his head. Draco ignored it. "If you like him, then go tell him."

"But he knows!" Seamus said, then paused, wondering why he was having this conversation with Malfoy, when the reason why he came was to confront Malfoy for seducing Harry. The thought floated around his mind for a while, and Seamus doubted that it was true Malfoy was seducing his crush.

"So? You can't expect him to make the first move, are you? He's the bloody boy-who-lived. So if you want him, you have to go for it," Draco said.

"But what if he doesn't...?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Finnigan, are all Gryffindors that dense or it's just you? He's lost his memories, so with a little convincing you could win him."

Seamus was debating with himself, then he came up with a very suspicious feeling. "Wait a minute, why would you tell me this?"

Draco's expression dropped a bit as the question made itself understood in his mind. Why? Why else would he do this? If only to save Harry from him... save them both, because there was no way he could let Harry like him. He had done so many wrongs in the past, he didn't want to add another one to this list, especially if it was Harry's feeling he was talking about.

"Why else, Finnigan?" Draco drawled. "If you do then Potter would probably leave me in peace. I've had enough of him for the past years without him spending two hours with me every single day now."

Seamus scowled, obviously tricked by Draco. "You heartless bastard," Seamus muttered.

The insult echoed in his mind in familiarity, and it almost made him laugh in bitterness. "Of course I am. Now if you excuse me, Finnigan, I'll be going. I've wasted enough of my precious time with you." With that, Draco turned and walked out of the door, leaving Seamus there wondering if Draco Malfoy had just admitted that he was a heartless _bastard_.

P.a.R.t.T.w.E.n.T.y.O.n.E.d.O.n.E

Hermione was the first to spot Harry as he walked through the portrait hole into the common room.

Harry was released from the hospital wing this morning, and as Hermione and Ron were taking him back to the Gryffindor Tower, a message came and said that Dumbledore needed to speak with Harry. Confused and curious, the two friends left Harry to make his way to the headmaster office.

It was two hours later and now they were sitting with Harry in front of the burning fireplace, Harry sandwiched between his friends.

"Why did he call you to his office?" Ron asked.

Harry didn't look at them as his green eyes stared fixedly at the fireplace, the flame crackling reflected in his eyes. "He wanted me to take good care of myself and don't take it too hard," he answered.

"It took that long?" Ron said, bewildered.

"I got lost, and there was this one energetic painting of a knight that showed me to the office," Harry said.

Ron gave Harry a weird look. "Does this painting, by any chance, named Sir Cadogan?" Ron questioned.

"How do you know?" Harry looked quite amazed at his guess. Ron just muttered something under his breath, causing Harry to gave his friend a curious look.

"Ignore him, Harry," Hermione said exasperatedly. "Anyway, you have homework to do. Don't worry, I'll help you with it," she said hastily, as if knowing Harry was worried about it. "I know you don't remember lots of things."

"Thanks, Hermione," Harry said, smiling.

"Why won't you help me, Herm?" Ron asked indignantly.

Hermione gave him a stern look. "You, Ronald Weasley, do not have an amnesia. You do, however, have an incurable disease in you that is called indolence."

Ron sulked at her. "I am not lazy."

"I'm sure you're not," Hermione said sarcastically, then she turned back to Harry. "Forget him, Harry, he's always like that." Then, reaching over to the table, Hermione pulled Harry down with her. "Now sit down, Harry, and we'll begin on Potions first."

Ron groaned. "No~"

Hermione rolled her eyes at him and Harry laughed. "Honestly, Ron. Just get your lazy bum down here and I'll help you too," she said.

Ron's eyes sparkled at her in a very frightening way. "Oh Hermione, love, you're the best," Ron simpered, and in front of everyone in the common room, jumped down the sofa and kissed her.

There were wild catcalls and whistles around them, cheering them on. Harry watched with interest, never have seen this before.

Finally Hermione pushed him away. blushing prettily. "Ron!" she said, but despite her tone, she looked very much touched.

They did their homework, and Harry saw, out of the corner of his eye, now and then Ron would bend down to whisper something in Hermione's ear, and she would look up and smile at him. Harry observed this 'exchange of love' with much curiosity.

About two hours later Seamus burst into the common room.

Harry was first to look up.

Seamus walked over to Harry and pulled him up by the arm. Harry raised his head to look at him in surprise. "Seamus, what...?"

"Let's go somewhere, Harry, I want to talk to you," Seamus said, not looking at Harry.

"Seamus," Hermione said, standing up.

"Hermione, sit down!" Seamus snarled, and it was the first time he ever talked in that tone to her, or anyone else, for that matter, and it shocked her into obedience. Ron angrily stood up, glaring at Seamus for daring to talk to his girlfriend like that. "Ron, don't start with me. I just want to talk to Harry," Seamus said, turning on him.

Ron opened his mouth to speak, when Harry jumped in. "It's okay, Ron, I'll just talk to Seamus for a moment." Ron looked doubtful, but didn't object and sat down.

Seamus looked at them gratefully and pulled Harry into one of these deserted room in the Gryffindor Tower. He then walked over to a wide window, eyes fixed on the sky above, and did not look at Harry for a long time.

Harry stood there uncomfortably, hesitated to speak. But he didn't need to, because then Seamus strode back until they stood facing each other, and without a word, Seamus cupped Harry's face with both hands, and leaned down to kiss him firmly on the mouth.

The image of Ron kissing Hermione returned to his mind, and he knew exactly what Seamus was doing. Gently he reached up and pushed Seamus away.

Seamus pulled back, dazed, blue eyes unfocused, then, realizing what he'd just done - what Harry had just done, he stared at Harry with quiet bewilderment and pain.

"I'm sorry, Seamus," Harry said softly.

Seamus kept on staring at Harry. Moments later that stretched into eternity, the blonde spoke flatly, "You like him, don't you?"

Harry's silence was enough for Seamus, and he said, his tone neutral, "I don't believe it."

"Seamus, I'm really sorry," Harry repeated, looking up at Seamus, and saw, in those eyes, fire burning with ferocity directing not at him but a certain someone else. It was the first time he'd ever seen Seamus like that, and it kind of scared him. "Seamus...?"

"I'm gonna kill him!" Seamus raged, taking full strides over to the door. In mind he believed that Draco had tricked him into humiliating himself, and the Slytherin must have known Harry liked him. The bastard! Seamus's going to _kill_ him!

Harry panicked and desperately clung onto the other boy's arm.

"Seamus! No!" Harry cried. "You can't kill him!"

Seamus was rooted to the place, staring far ahead as his hands balled into fists and clenched angrily. What has that insolent jerk ever done to deserve this? He couldn't believe Harry would choose someone who had tried to make his life so miserable for nearly seven years. No, he won't allow this, never at all!

"Why, Harry?" Seamus's voice was bitter. "Why?"

"I'm sorry," Harry sobbed, "I'm sorry..."

"How long have you...?"

"I don't know, I don't know..."

Seamus spun around, pulling Harry into his arms roughly, his grip tight. "Why must it be him? God, Harry, I can't take this..."

Harry didn't struggle, didn't try to get away, and stood in Seamus's arms motionlessly. "I'm sorry." The words were whispered, sincere and sad, edged with desperation to make things right again.

A shaky breath was let out, and Seamus, with the air of a defeated person, dropped his arms, stepping away from Harry. The green eyed boy looked up searchingly, but Seamus didn't say anything, and instead, turned and opened the door.

Ron and Hermione nearly tripped at the sudden loss of the door, which, undoubtedly, they were leaning against to eavesdrop. They smiled weakly at Seamus, but the boy paid no mind and brushed past them, his footsteps quick and angry.

Hermione was immediately by his side. "Harry, what happened?"

Harry stared at the door, his expression undefined. "Nothing," Harry said eventually, eyes never left the place where Seamus had gone through. "Let's go to dinner, Hermione."

Hermione wanted to ask Harry more, but a look from Ron silent her, and they went to dinner, feeling anything but content and happy.

Harry ate dinner in silence, never looking up, even when, Hermione noticed, Draco glanced over to him. Seamus was nowhere to be found, and that itself was a very questionable thing indeed; Seamus never missed a meal in his life even if Voldemort was standing in front of him. Something must have happened, and Hermione swore to find out even if it kills her.

When dinner was over Harry stood up, and was about to walk away, too, if Ron didn't call him back.

His eyes snapped up at them, coming into focus. "Yes?"

Ron looked a bit uncertain. "Um, you, er, alright, Harry? Not feeling unwell, are you?"

Harry cracked a smile, a forcibly painful smile, and Hermione winced at the fakeness of it. "Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

Ron was about to answer when Hermione put a hand to his arm and gave him a meaningful look. "Yes, indeed, Harry. Now, I think your favorite Slytherin is waiting for you," Hermione said, still not taking her eyes off Ron, and Ron understood.

"Um, okay, I'll see you later then," Harry said, waving goodbye, and left them.

"Hermione? Care to explain what that was all about?" Ron inquired, raising his eyebrows at her.

"Ron, how dense can you get? He honestly didn't want to talk about it, and you know Harry, if he feels like talking, he will eventually. But for now, let's leave him alone," Hermione sighed, grabbing Ron's hand as they walked out of the Great Hall. "I feel so bad for him. He's had enough in his life already without having to deal with this mess."

"It's not his fault he has an amnesia, it's Malfoy," Ron scowled.

Hermione smiled adoringly at him, and leaned up to peck him on the lips. Ron looked surprised and appreciative at the same time, but didn't question her.

Hermione looked back to the corridor full of people, feeling a bit funny that Ron misunderstood her words. She wasn't talking about Harry's amnesia, she was talking about his feelings and the other one as well.

Somehow she has a feeling that what Harry felt was more than just a school crush.

P.a.R.t.T.w.E.n.T.y.Tw.O.d.O.n.E

Draco met Harry at the entrance hall, once again, feeling very guilty about his action the other day, leaving Harry in front of the forest. It was all his fault, once again, that Harry caught a fever. From what he overheard from the Gryffindors, Harry had arrived back to the common room of his tower soaking wet, and very late. Draco had no doubt that Harry had stood outside in the rain for some time before going back in.

Now Harry was smiling up at him, his face held no accusation or anger at him, but happiness and... something else as well. "Hey," Harry spoke.

"Come on, Harry, we can't stand here talking, people'll be suspicious," Draco said, tugging at his hand.

Harry nodded and they walked away from the main corridor. When they were quite alone, Draco let go of Harry's hand and looked away. He mustered all the courage he could get and said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to leave you there at the forest. I shouldn't have... it was all my fault..."

Harry shushed him, still smiling in that very adoring way. "I don't blame you. I shouldn't have stood there in the rain for hours anyway."

"But I..." Draco protested, and Harry pressed a finger to his lips. Draco's wide eyes were fixed on him as words dissipated into the thin air.

"There's somewhere I want to go," Harry said. "Will you come with me?"

Draco nodded, and together and climbed numerous of staircases, passed through dark, deserted corridors, and the direction where they were going was dawning on him. He looked at the Gryffindor to his side, walking purposely, confidently - confident because Draco was with him. Does Harry know where he was going? Draco wondered as the familiar door came in sight.

"Harry...?"

Harry turned back at him, shaking his head as if to tell him not to speak, because this was not the time to be talking - it was the time for remembering.

And remembering Draco did.

The door gave a quiet creak as it opened, and the dark room came in sight. Harry didn't look at him and stepped inside, knowing - trusting - Draco would follow him in, and Draco did.

The wide window was still there, giving the moonlight an open path to sip in. The old fireplace was covered in more spider webs and dust, and there, far by the corner, was the large case resting against the wall, inside it held his precious cello.

"It's been a long time, hasn't it?" Harry spoke finally, catching Draco's attention.

The blonde wasn't sure what Harry meant, but all the same, he _was_ sure what Harry meant, and maybe he was just wishing it to not be true.

"You said to me, once, that I'm a mystery, like the universe," Harry said, and Draco noticed that he had crossed the room and was looking out of the window, in that stance he had been in, just many months ago, when Draco was still in denial about himself, Harry, his feelings, everything.

Harry was suddenly facing him, half his face hidden in the darkness, the other half illuminated by the silver glow. "Do you still think I'm a mystery now?"

Draco's breath caught in his throat, and for a moment he couldn't speak, or breathe, for that matter. The words Harry said had an impact on him greater than he would've expected. That night when they first had a civilize conversation came back to him, vivid and clear as if just yesterday - no, moments ago.

Before Draco could answer, Harry spoke again. "Will you play a piece of music for me?"

It took him a while to work his uncooperative legs again. He nodded and took his instrument out with exaggerated care.

Dusting off the chair, Draco sat down, spending a short minute on tuning the cello. It has been so long since he'd played, and Draco was afraid that he couldn't do it right. However, as the already rosined bow was placed upon the strings, his fingers automatically adjusted themselves to the correct places.

When the music started Draco's mind became a blank sheet of paper, all thoughts and feelings were poured into the music - into the piece that he'd played when Harry had came here once before. How time had flied.

Harry closed his eyes, and, for second time in his life, he heard it again. The loneliness, the agony of want and need and cannot have, but there was no anger, no hatred, nor confusion. The realization, the recognition of his feelings, and the suffers he had gone through when he acknowledged the facts of what his heart has been trying to tell him all this years. And there it was, the questions, desperate and needy, asking for answers, begging for a light to guide him onto the right path - the path which he should take, because he was so lost, and there was nowhere for him to turn to.

But there was something else also. Something that was forced back into the deepest place in the blonde's heart the first time Harry witnessed this expression of emotions. The feeling that was denied by its owner once, pushed away. Ignored.

The feeling was no longer denied now. It was bursting with intensity, honesty. The feeling so powerful, heartbreakingly beautiful, unimaginably sad, unexplainably _right_. He could feel it coursing through his body along with the music in tiny shivers of pleasure, feeling it wrapped itself around his body with warmth and whispers of comfort. And he felt... and his heart was responding...

However, there were fears, lying in the undertone, low, long, vibrating as if it was shuddering. The fear of losing someone important... The fear of obstacles. The fear of expectations. The fear of risks he has to take in order to have what he wanted. The fear of unable to protect the only one he loved. And there was his family honor to look upon to. _Couldn't let my family down, father will be displeased, mother will be disappointed, I will be disowned. I need to follow my father's footsteps, but what about my love?_

And there was one last thing he heard as the piece came to an end, slowly dropping its volume, until the ringing was no longer there, only silence as the echo of the question reverberated in his mind.

Does he loved me like I do?

And Harry was sobbing uncontrollably. No tears, just sobs that shook his body, and he couldn't stop it. Tears were flowing, but not through his eyes, but his heart. Bleeding tears that stained him with the heartfelt truth, the certainty, and then Draco was embracing him in his arms, his presence so soothing and yet so hurting, that Harry was torn between wanting to get away and pulling the blonde closer.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Draco whispered, his arms tightened themselves around Harry involuntarily.

Harry shook his head. "No, _I'm_ sorry."

Draco pulled away slightly, looking into Harry's eyes. "Have you regained your memories?"

His eyes glazed over fleetingly and then they were bright, clear, and a bit sad. "I remembered that you saved me from Voldemort, but - but everything else..." He shook his head again, looking away.

Draco gripped Harry's waist with one arm and the other around his shoulder, burying his face in the soft hair. "It's okay. It's okay..." he murmured.

They stayed that way for a long time, letting the peaceful quiet enveloped them, forgetting, for the moment, of the darkness and haunted whispers creeping around the corners, waiting to intrude and break this tranquility they found in each other's arms.

I'm sorry...

P.a.R.t.T.w.E.n.T.y.T.h.R.e.E.d.O.n.E

c h a p t e r . F O U R. e n d...

* to be continued in chapter 5 - the lies *

* * *

A/U: As usual, I'm rambling again. Well! I've finished my first week of school, and survived! So that made me very happy, therefore I dedicated my time into finishing this chapter the best I can, even though there are tons of homework I need to do and a science fair project (yeah! In the beginning of the year, no less!), including studying for quizzes for next week.

Anyway, the last part of this chapter is far my favorite, and yes, there are some flaws in the story which I haven't figured out yet. You would see that my writing flow will change now and then, parts that are meaningful, and parts that are just trash. But however I write is depended on my mood, so if I'm in the mood, chances are that the chapter will come out without any flaw. If I'm not then, well, you have to go through some very boring parts.

Again, thanks for those who reviewed, and those who didn't. From the reviews, I see that you all are pretty much satisfied with how this story goes, no? But I really want you to tell me what I should do - or change - about this story. I have the whole thing planned out in my head, of course, since I'm too lazy to make a draft like dear H.I. told me to, but I will make the changes that are needed, or my readers feel is needed. Oh, and one more thing, I'm just wondering if you have seen the obvious (or not) clues I put in this chapter that will affect the later chapters. Or do you have some ideas of what's going to happen next, if so, please let me know, and I'll be really happy if you get it right, because that'll prove how into my story you are, although that'll spoil the ending, but oh well!

Another _very_ important thing, in which almost all of the D/H fics have: 'the lemon scene'. I don't know if I should write one or not, since H.I. told me that this is kind of an 'innocent' story. I do know that R-rated is the limit on ff.net, and I do know how to write lemons in vague descriptions, so if you have any concern, then cast those aside!

This story is half way done, I think, and I'm thinking of lengthen it a bit, therefore, 'the war between good and evil' will be put in, HOWEVER, if you want to see the ending really soon, then I won't put the war thing in.

Okay, this A/N is so long, and I'm sorry! But there's so many things I need to say, but I'm done now... maybe... never mind.

Next chapter, what you all have been waiting for: 'the kiss'! You see what Seamus's thinking, what Hermione finds out, and what that kiss brings to Harry and Draco. If the next chapter's title changes, then don't be surprise. I tend to do that.


	5. The Troubles

M e m o r i e s . o f . m e...

* * * * * * * * *

C.h.a.p.t.e.r.5 - the troubles...

The Malfoy garden were probably the most beautiful garden there was that had ever existed. The trees spread out at the east, where the sun came up. There was a fountain in the center of the garden, made of white marbles. An angel statue made out of alabaster with lovely eyes of silver was holding a small lyre in the fountain. She has a simple dress, glowing white with a golden rope tied loosely around her waist. Water spurt out from the radiant multi-colored halo that wasn't attached to her head, but floating above it, so that it appeared to be a translucent veil covering her face.

All kinds of different flowers scattered artistically around the garden in small groups, and some of them have never been found before. There was a small bench carved out of crystal near the fountain, and sitting on it, was an old woman in expensive dress, holding a cello.

She was playing a beautiful piece of music that carried through the place and called the faeries and other creatures toward her, dancing and sprinkling sparkles under the bright sun.

A little boy was lying on his stomach on the grass in front of her, listening intently as the music washed through his body and filled his every inch with love. The blond hair swept back along the breeze, and in the sunlight it was glowing a silver color. He was smiling with an innocent kind of happiness, feeling satisfied and very loved.

When the piece ended, he stood up and ran over to her, putting his arms around her neck. "Grandma!"

The woman smiled gently, her eyes kind and loving. "Draco, when did you come here?" she asked softly.

A five-year-old Draco Malfoy replied excitedly, "Just sometime. You played beautifully, and I just couldn't disturb you."

"How's your first fencing lesson?" she asked, brushing a lock of hair out of Draco's eyes.

Draco gave the most adorable pout. "It was sooo boring. The tutor made me wear this stuffy uniform and the mask. I couldn't breathe!" he exclaimed.

His grandma's laughter was like silver bells ringing on a hot summer day. It was heart-warming. "But it's over now, and you will get used to it soon," she reassured him, patting his little hand with her own thin, wrinkled one.

"What was that piece you were playing, Grandma?" Draco asked curiously.

"It's called 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' by Mendelssohn," she answered, then, seeing the confused look on her grandson's face, she added, "He's a music composer. His works are pretty much known by people."

"I want to play like you, grandma!" Draco said eagerly, tugging at her sleeve and bouncing in his seat. "Teach me!"

Her eyes were sad when she asked, "Why do you want to play like me?"

Draco's answer was immediate and honest. "Because I want you to know how much I love you, since I can hear your love!"

She smiled lovingly at him, kissing his forehead. "Alright then, Draco, I'll teach you, but promise me one thing."

"What is it?"

"You will only play for someone who you love and who loves you and no one else," she told him, stroking his hair.

"I promise!" Draco said automatically.

She laughed again, and Draco loved to hear her laugh, because she rarely does. "Let's start then. We'll learn the strings' names and the notes first."

Draco nodded, and they spent that entirely afternoon with each other, laughing and talking. Draco had been truly happy on that day with his grandma.

A few months later his happiness vanished along with his grandma when she passed away.

P.a.R.t.T.w.E.n.T.y.F.o.U.r.D.o.N.e

November 11, 1997...

When Draco finished playing, he closed his eyes and waited. He didn't know what he was waiting for, but he waited, and eventually, he received a response.

It wasn't a response he would expect from Harry, and for a moment he didn't know what to do, then, as if coming out of a trance, he reacted to it... very unexpectedly as well. Before Draco knew what he was doing his arms were around Harry, pulling the boy forward and pressed against him.

Draco was, shameful to admit it, afraid. He didn't want to start this - he didn't want to have letting go of everything he believed in, didn't want to defy his father, go against Voldemort, because of this person, just so he would lose him in the end.

But he wanted him. It was so unexplainable, so inexplicable that he could want something so badly and has to tore himself away from it. He knew there were consequences to his actions, whichever path he choose to walk on, he will have to lose something, but there was one thing he know for sure: he couldn't live without Harry, now that he understood his feelings. However, it wasn't his choice. If one day Harry gets his memories back, and he realized that he didn't want Draco anymore, then Draco would have to let him go, no matter how much he has to bear inside. If that day ever come, Draco knew he would be alone, he would lose everything, and will never be able to go back to the way it was once, because he couldn't - he wouldn't.

His grandmother had once told him, to choose the path he must take - need to take and choose wisely, so he won't regret in the end.

If it was Harry he chooses, then he would never regret it. Even if he could be with Harry for only one day and have him gone in the next, he wouldn't regret it, and Draco knew - knew what he needed - what he must do, and at that moment when Harry was in his arms, Draco chose his future, and hoped for the best.

P.a.R.t.T.w.E.n.T.y.F.i.V.e.D.o.N.e

They had been sitting there for some time now. Minutes - hours passed and it seemed unimportant, so far away because they were in each other's arms, and what more could they want, when their object of affection was right next to them?

Draco was leaning against the wall, one arm around Harry's shoulder, playing with the soft curls around his neck, and the other holding Harry's hand. Harry, on the other hand, had his head resting on Draco's chest, eyes closed and feeling very content.

They haven't spoken for a long time, but there was no word needed, nothing was needed, except each other.

Draco ran his thumb over the back of Harry's hand, feeling the skin and loving every inch of it.

Harry opened his eyes and turned his hand, so their palms were touching, and Draco, with a smile, entwined their fingers. Harry raised their joined hands up and examined it. Draco's skin was pale, in contrast to his tan, so different, but so normal.

Draco brought their hands to his lips and kissed the green-eyed boy's fingers. A short moment later Harry let out a chuckle.

"What's so funny?" Draco asked, running his fingers through the soft hair.

"Nothing, it's just you," Harry answered, and this time, he giggled. It was strange to see Draco being so... tender.

"Just me?"

Harry nodded, snuggled closer and sighing happily.

Another comfortable moment passed between them, and Harry spoke up, "Who gave you the cello?"

Draco's eyes closed, then opened again. "My grandma," he said softly, and, seeing the questioning look on Harry's face, he added, almost sadly, "She died when I was eight. In her last will she gave me her only possession, or the only one she ever cared about."

"Her cello," Harry said simply, inclined his head to look at Draco.

Nodding, Draco continued, "She was the one who taught me how to play. My father doesn't like me playing any kind of instrument. He said music is for girls, but grandma can see that I really love it, so she taught me how to play. After she died, my father wanted to throw it away, but I hid it, and whenever he was away I would take it out and play."

"You play beautifully," Harry commented truthfully, and Draco smiled at him.

"Really?" Draco said. "That's good to know, then."

Harry frowned. "Didn't anyone like your music?"

"I never played for anyone except you." _And I don't want anyone to hear _my_ music except you._

"Why?"

Draco's eyes locked with Harry's and he replied, "Because I promised my grandma I wouldn't play for anyone who I don't love." _And who loves me_, Draco thought, but didn't say it out loud.

For a heartbreaking moment all Harry could do was gaze into the silver orbs, held with the certainty of what he felt and the simple truth. Then Harry's face broke into a smile, a genuine, wide, and childish smile that touched Draco deeply, and he realized he would always wanted Harry to smile like that at him.

Almost unconsciously Draco bent down slightly and brushed his lips against Harry's.

The moment their lips touched several things happened. Their eyes, instead of closing, were wide with surprise as they stared at each other. And in their hearts, something that felt so empty and incomplete before, were now filled with so much completion, to the point of perfection.

Draco abruptly pulled away, panicked and shocked at his action. "Oh ... _my god_... I - I..."

But Harry raised his hand and touched Draco's cheek gently, his green eyes bright and sincere. "I liked that," he said shortly. "Do it again."

Draco wasn't sure he heard Harry right, and he didn't even give it another thought as he leaned down and their lips met for the second time, slowly, uncertainly. Then the last of Draco's hesitation fell away when Harry didn't resist and instead, dropped his hand to hold Draco's.

Their fingers entwined along with their hearts as Draco withdrew to briefly look into Harry's eyes, and then pulled Harry into a deepening kiss. Draco swept his tongue lightly on Harry's bottom lip, feeling a shiver coursed through Harry's body, and smiled in delight.

They pulled away with a final feathery brush of lips, and Draco watched as Harry's eyes slowly fluttered open, feeling warm all over when the green depths met his eyes.

Harry smiled, almost shyly, lowering his head to their entwined hands. Draco raised his fingers to brush away some strands on the Gryffindor's face, then the fingers trailed down to Harry's cheek, lightly touching his cheekbones, and very gently he tilted the other boy's head up and they kissed again.

The door opened with a crash.

P.a.R.t.T.w.E.n.T.y.S.i.X.d.O.n.E

It has been over three hours and Harry has not gotten back to the Gryffindor Tower. Ron was pacing up and down in front of Hermione, who was feeling so unsettled and troubled that even her homework couldn't get her attention.

"That's it, I'm going to find Harry," Ron made up his mind.

Hermione jumped up. "No, Ron! Dumbledore said no one is to disturb Harry when he's in his sessions with Malfoy."

"Well, their session is over a long time ago," Ron snapped. "I have to find Harry. Who knows what that jerk is doing to him now!?"

A brief, very unexpected image crossed her mind, and she blushed. "God, I hope not," she muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing," Hermione said hastily. Seeing the doubtful look on her boyfriend's face, she said, "C'mon, let's go find him then."

Ron paused momentarily, then ran up to the stairway leading up to the boy dorm. "Ron, where are you going?!" Hermione shouted, following him.

"The map! I'm not wasting my time running around the castle looking for them pointlessly!" Ron bellowed back.

Hermione wanted to logically pointed out that they could use the Point Me Spell, but seeing how Ron was so worried for his best friend, she kept the knowledge to herself.

Ron ignored Dean and Neville as he opened Harry's trunk and rummaged around it, ignoring the questioning looks his two roommates were sending him.

"Hey! What are you doing with Harry's stuff?" Dean asked.

"None of your business," Ron said absently, pulling out the map.

Dean huffed. "Honestly, what is up with you guys today? First Seamus wouldn't tell me anything, and disappeared for the whole day, and now you're too."

Ron paid him no mind, and now that deep, sinking feeling in Hermione's stomach dropped lower. "Hurry, Ron," she rushed him.

Ron spoke the chosen words quietly, so that the others wouldn't hear, and the web-like lines crawled around the old parchment, finally they spotted Harry's name, up on the top of the Astronomy Tower, and next to him, was the name Draco Malfoy.

But that wasn't what they were looking at, they were looking at another labeled dot that was with Harry and Draco.

"Well, now we know where that blasted Irish is," Ron muttered.

Without wasting another minute they ran out of the tower, leaving two very confused boys behind.

Dean, curiosity pulling at him, picked up the parchment Ron had thrown down the floor, examined it, and let out a sound that resembled 'oh my god' very much.

"What is it, Dean?" Neville asked, coming over to him.

Wordlessly Dean handed him the map, and Neville dropped the parchment in shock.

P.a.R.t.T.w.E.n.T.y.S.e.V.e.N.d.O.n.E

The moment they heard the door opened, Draco and Harry sprang back, looking very flustered as they turned toward the direction of the door. Harry paled when he saw who was standing there.

"Finnigan," Draco drawled, already gotten back his composure. "How nice of you to join us."

Seamus glared at the blonde. "Piss off, Malfoy," he snarled, then turned his furious eyes to Harry. "I can't believe..."

Harry clambered to his feet, and Draco did so, too. "Seamus, what are you doing here?"

"You wouldn't want me to be here now, would you? Seeing that you both were having such great time yourself," Seamus said with malice. Harry thought he could feel the anger radiating from the other Gryffindor.

Before Harry had time to speak, Draco was already replying. "Yes, we were having _such_ a great time, until you interrupted us, that is." Through his cool exterior, he was panicking inside. How much did Seamus see? How did he know they were here? What would the boy do now? He couldn't let his father know yet, otherwise... well... he wouldn't want to think about that now.

"You..." Seamus hissed, and without another word whipped out his wand and aimed it directly at Draco's chest. Having no time to register what was happening, as the spell was already uttered, Draco couldn't dodge it, and watched as the red light cut through the air, making its way at him.

"Draco!"

His name was yelled before he was pushed aside, tumbling down to the floor and what happened next was just a blur. He heard Seamus's wand made contact with the stony floor, and something else next to him as well. Draco saw Harry, out of the corner of his eye, dropping down, his hand clutching his left arm, blood oozing out from the front as well as the upper arm, staining the black cloak.

Draco felt cold all over as he crawled over to Harry, as if in a trance, touching the ashen face. "Harry," he whispered.

The boy was unresponsive for a while, and Draco was afraid that the closed eyes would never open again, but Harry did open his eyes, and his dry lips cracked a smile at him. "Draco..."

Draco's left hand touched Harry's bloody one, and the blood sipped through his fingers as well. Draco stared at it, his mind a white blankness that stretched on forever.

Slowly, the blonde slipped an arm under Harry's head and lifted Harry up slightly. Harry rested his head on Draco's chest, and their hands were entwined once again. "Draco, I..."

"Harry," Draco said bleakly. "Your arm..."

"It's okay," Harry murmured, closing his eyes. "It doesn't hurt so much..." _when I'm in your arms_.

Draco kept holding on to Harry, not hearing the words Seamus was saying behind him, or when footsteps were running into the room. He didn't hear Ron's yelling. He didn't feel Ron trying to pull him away from Harry. He didn't let go of Harry, nor did Harry let go of him. They clung onto one another, not hearing the words Hermione was saying to Ron. Not knowing that Ron was shouting on top of his lungs at Seamus. They didn't even notice when teachers were right next to them, putting Harry on a stretcher, prying his hand off Harry's. And he watched as Harry was taken away before him, the green-ness of his eyes looking at him with a smile in them, telling him not to worry, and then everything was silent, and then Harry was gone.

Draco had never felt so empty and cold inside.

P.a.R.t.T.w.E.n.T.y.E.i.G.h.T.d.O.n.E

November 12, 1997...

"_Have you heard?"_

"Heard what?"

"Y'know? Seamus Finnigan from Gryffindor? He was expelled and is going to be sent home tonight."

"What?! Why?"

"I heard that it was because he attacked Harry Potter."

"What! No way! Seamus's practically obsessed over him!"

"I know, right? But someone told me that Seamus caught Harry with someone and got jealous over it."

"Who's that someone?"

"I don't know, but I heard one of Seamus's friends said that it was a Slytherin..."

"A Slytherin? But Gryffindors and Slytherins are rivals! Harry would never have any kind of relationship with them!"

Draco walked past the students from the lower years swiftly, not listening to the news that was spreading about by everyone for almost all of the morning and afternoon. He had left Crabbe and Goyle somewhere, and was avoiding Blaise with earnest.

He wouldn't have been avoiding the dark-haired Slytherin if Blaise didn't find out what the event of last night was all about. Blaise, for a Slytherin, was not stupid. He knew where Draco was last night, and upon hearing the news this morning, has been trying to hunt Draco down and question him.

Even though Draco has known him ever since they were very little, even though Blaise was the only one Draco had ever has intelligent conversations with for most of his childhood, Draco doesn't trust him. He knew Blaise idolized his father, and would answer everything his father asked of him. That was why his father has such detailed information on his doings in school. Draco didn't blame him, of course, because Blaise did what he did in belief that it was for his sake, and in order for Draco to be safe from Dumbledore and the Gryffindors, Lucius needed to know everything that was going on in Draco's life. Draco, of course, didn't think so, and therefore he told Blaise as little as he could, and he had never, _ever_ spoken to him about Harry and his feelings, not if he went crazy, which won't happen any time soon, or so he hoped.

Ron and Hermione weren't in class today, much to Draco's worries. Snape wasn't present in Potions, and McGonagall seemed very distracted, which didn't happen often in every day's life. He couldn't sleep last night, with his mind flowing with all kind of horrible thoughts and what if's. He couldn't concentrate in class, and he was glad the teachers didn't notice, and his stomach felt so unsettled that he was afraid he would be sick if he eat anything.

Draco wanted so badly to visit Harry, but he couldn't do it in the day, where everyone come in and out of the infirmary, and he couldn't last night, because the teachers were all present in the hospital wing. Last night...

There was so much blood all around them, and Harry looked so pale, and he was looking at Draco with such a peaceful calm face. Draco thought he was going to cry, but the terrible feeling he felt was too intense for tears, too eerie for violence. Draco wasn't sure if he was happy that they expelled Seamus, or angry that he wasn't able to beat the crap out of the Gryffindor. Whatever he felt, it didn't matter now. All it mattered that Harry was okay and Draco could see him again.

"Draco!" The voice of the person he was avoiding all morning came, and, swearing under his breath, Draco marched away, trying to lose himself in the crowd. Unfortunately, Blaise didn't think so.

"Not so fast there!" Blaise said breathlessly, a hand on his shoulder, and Draco, with a deep sigh, turned back to his friend. Blaise was, in his flustered state, smirking triumphantly. "Well, finally decided to face me?"

"No, but if you don't let me go now, Blaise, I will be late for Magical Creature, and then you will be very sorry," Draco said coolly, while he was screaming inside.

"Then we can go to class together," Blaise said shortly, grabbing onto Draco's upper arm so he wouldn't run away.

"Blaise, let go," Draco said irritably, tugging at his arm, but Blaise held on firmly.

"So you can run away again? Nuh-uh, Draco, I'm not stupid." Blaise shook his head.

Draco gave an exasperated sigh and glared at his companion. "Let go. I won't run away."

Blaise looked at him calculatingly, and reluctantly let go. Draco used that moment to strode quickly outside, leaving Blaise running after him.

When he got to his class, and Blaise was catching up on him, he noticed... well, he sensed it, more like it, a look someone was giving him, and casually, ignoring Blaise of course, Draco swept his eyes around the class, and there, stood the two Gryffindors: Thomas and Longbottom. Draco sneered at them, wondering why they were looking at him as if he had grown two heads, and turned away, partly because Blaise was whining.

"Draco! That was mean!" Blaise said crossly. "You said you wouldn't run away."

"If I wanted to run away, then you won't be able to find me at all," Draco pointed out, and with a pout, Blaise folded his arms across his chest.

"Draco, what happened...?"

"Malfoy!" Draco gave a start at the bellow, and turning around to see Hagrid walking over to him, panting, any visible skin flushed. "Professor... Dumbledore... you get to the hospital wing." When Draco stood there staring at the giant blankly as his mind trying to register what the man was saying, Hagrid snapped and shouted. "NOW!" All the students jumped, and without a word Draco ran into the castle, pausing briefly to throw his books at Blaise.

Blaise huffed, wondering why he was always interrupted when he asked Draco about the event of last night. Then, whispers reached his ears, and, Draco momentarily forgotten, glanced over to see Dean and Neville talking to each other. With a nonchalant air Blaise calmly moved closer, curious as to why they would be whispering, and his eyes widened at what he heard.

P.a.R.t.T.w.E.n.T.y.N.i.N.e.D.o.N.e

When Draco reached the infirmary, a wave of hesitancy overcame him. Why should he be here? What business of his to be here? Dumbledore had asked him to come, then that must mean the old man knows more that he let on, but _why_ would Draco be called here? There was only one possibility: Harry. But Harry couldn't be that badly injured now, could he? Finnigan couldn't have known any dark curse to truly hurt Harry... but Dumbledore wouldn't have called him here if it was not for a good reason.

The moment he stepped inside all eyes turned to him, and for once in his life, he hated the attention. All of the professors looked very troubled, even Snape didn't seem to have the energy to look nasty. Draco's questioning gaze directed at Dumbledore, and the old man, gravely, walked over to him. "Draco, come," he took Draco by the arm and led him over to the farthest bed, where, he saw, sat Hermione crying her eyes out, and Ron looking very pissed off.

Ron glanced at him emotionlessly, and looked away without a word. That enough was a very strange thing itself, and the unsettled feeling was there in him again.

Ron touched Hermione gently on the shoulder, and she raised her head, saw Draco, and cried even harder. "Draco..." Draco mentally gave a start at the use of his first name. "Draco... Harry..." Hermione sobbed.

Draco's eyes turned to the bed slowly, and his inside turned cold. His eyes seemed to be blinded by a deep, dark, contagious emotion that seeped through him and froze everything inside. Why was the silence so painful? Why wasn't anyone saying anything? Draco's flat, blank eyes riveted to the others, who stood there watching him anxiously, seeming to be at loss as to why he was staring at them.

His eyes returned to the body lying on the bed, and he stepped closer, not knowing that Ron had gently pulled Hermione away from the bed. He sat down, and didn't notice it either, nor did he saw the others looked away.

Draco raised his shaky fingers - why are they so shaky? - to tenderly flicked out the wet strands on Harry's damp, greenish-gray face.

In one night, in just one night... how did this happen to Harry? The bright, happy green eyes weren't open, and they looked as if they would never open again. Beads of sweat fell down his forehead, dampened his hair, and disappeared, only to be replaced with more sweats, and even so, Harry felt so cold, like ice... or snow. Draco ran a finger over the cracked, dry lips, pressing down with very little force, but they were unresponsive. Harry's cheeks were hollowed, and he looked like skin and bone.

How could it be? How could everything be so peaceful and perfect last night, and so... _broken_ and _wrong_ now?

Draco lowered his hand and sought out Harry's under the cover, and nearly dropped the hand. Was that fright he was feeling when he looked down at Harry's hand? The firm, smooth hand he held last night was now bony, and to the eyes it seemed bloodless. The veins stood out visibly on the yellow-ish skin, and there were tiny, spine-like lines spreading out from under the skin... no... not just Harry's hand... but his arm... and... and his face, if Draco looked closely enough...

"Harry?" Draco whispered, but Harry didn't answer him. Harry didn't answer him, like he did last night, like he did always...

"Draco..." Snape's voice tried to pull him back to the present, but he was so far away...

"MALFOY!" Draco jerked back as hands shook him roughly, and he stared up into angry blue eyes and freckled face.

Draco shook his head, feeling a bit hazy, and turned away from Harry. "Why is he...?" he asked the professors, but couldn't finish the question.

It was Dumbledore who answered. "Harry's... he was poisoned." The calm voice hinted with worry and sadness.

The words hit Draco like thunder crashing down upon him, numbing his whole body, and the fear of losing Harry came back to him with mocking laughter filling his head. _No, no, no..._

Dumbledore was speaking, explaining, but he could hear nothing, for his eyes traveled back to Harry's deathly pale face. The new memories of him and Harry together, speaking civilly ran through his mind in a jumble, mixing with the old memories of them fighting and him wishing and thinking and denying.

"Draco... are you listening to me?" Dumbledore's even, cool voice tried to break through the wall of thoughts that formed around his mind. And then... he was angry. How dare Dumbledore let Harry got poisoned? What gave the old fool the right to make him listen to what he had to say? Wasn't he supposed to protect Harry? Well, Dumbledore wasn't doing a good job on it.

As if reading his feeling, Dumbledore spoke again, this time, to the teachers. "Minerva, Severus, you and Poppy go out for a while. There's something I must discuss with Draco."

The teachers nodded, and with one last glance at the students, they walked out.

"Draco, I know about you and Harry," Dumbledore said simply. "It must be hard for you now, but do not lose hope..."

"Who poisoned him?" Draco asked flatly, cutting in. "Was it Finnigan?"

"Ah," Dumbledore sighed, "it wasn't Mr. Finnigan."

"Then who was it?" Draco's eyes blazed with intensity and fierceness that mirrored exactly what he was feeling inside. If he knew who did this to Harry, he would never forgive that person.

Dumbledore didn't look at him, and didn't seem to want to answer him either. Draco rounded on Hermione and Ron instead, impatient.

Hermione took one look at him, and then she was sobbing again, not so hard this time. Frustrated, Draco raised his eyes to Ron. "So, Weasley, who was it?"

Ron didn't say anything, and when he spoke, he spoke clearly, eyes directing at Draco. "It was you, Malfoy."

P.a.R.t.T.h.I.r.T.y.D.o.N.e

There it was, the silence again. A different kind of silence. Still eerie, still cold, but it didn't feel like it was surrounding Draco, but shooting through his heart like a poisonous arrow, spreading its acidic feeling to burn his insides slowly, wrapping its terrible knowledge around him, squeezing, intoxicating him.

"You're lying," he whispered, taking a step backwards. His mind was a haze of unfocused thoughts and voices.

"I'm not lying, Malfoy, it was you," Ron said, continuing in that steady voice, when Draco's mind was screaming at him to stop talking, stop telling lies. "You poisoned him. Last night, when you..."

"STOP IT!" Draco screamed. "STOP IT! STOP IT!" How could he have poisoned Harry when he didn't even know? He would never hurt Harry, not anymore, at least. He couldn't have hurt Harry. It was impossible. He didn't give Harry any food or drink. He didn't let Harry eat anything around him, so how could he...?

He touched Harry's bloody hand, which was clutching his upper arm, and blood sipped through Draco's fingers as well...

"No..." the defeated, unbelieving whisper escaped Draco's lips. It was his hand... his hand! His own hand...

"Draco, you must listen to us," Dumbledore said urgently, but Draco wasn't listening, and the headmaster must have seen it too, because he took a step forward and pressed a piece of chocolate in his hand. "Eat," Dumbledore ordered.

Draco stared at it. How could he eat now? He didn't have the appetite, or the energy, but his hand raised and stuffed the chocolate into his mouth. He swallowed, and some warmth got back into him, but it didn't make him feel any better.

"Someone covered your hand with the poison of the basilisk's fang," Dumbledore began. "The teachers and I have come to the conclusion that the whole incident of last night was set up."

Draco's eyes watched Dumbledore with scrutiny. "Set up? But how? Unless Finnigan was in it..."

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "That was what we were all thinking, but after using the Veritaserum on Mr. Finnigan, we know that he has nothing to do with it. The spell, Draco, was directing at you, not Harry, so we could all assume that either this whole thing was an accident, or someone was using Mr. Finnigan."

"But how...?"

"We don't know yet, but cast the matter aside, we have more important things to do," Dumbledore said crisply. "The basilisk's poison was mixed with, according to Professor Snape, seven different poisonous flowers. We can't cure him, because we don't know what kind of flowers out of many thousands were used, and one wrong step, Harry will die." The word that Draco was avoiding now hit him with full force, and the matter seemed to intensified its seriousness a thousand times greater.

"He can't die..." Hermione said tearfully, voicing Draco's thought.

"We're not going to let him die," Dumbledore said firmly. "Fawkes' tears can only slow down the work of the poison, but the venom touched Harry so deeply that the healing power of a phoenix could not cure it." Dumbledore paused, wondering how to shape the next matter into words. "The only effective way to save Harry is to find the cure..."

"Then what are you doing here!?" Draco was so frustrated that he nearly scream. "Go and find a cure then!"

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "Professor Snape has been working on it ever since last night, but it's no use. Unless we know what that seven kinds of flowers are, we cannot do anything."

Draco staggered back, swaying on his feet. He couldn't feel the ground, only dark emptiness that was laughing at him, his weakness, his helpless state. "So he's going to..."

"We can't do anything, Draco, but you can." Those simple words brought Draco back to reality so quickly that he felt a bit dizzy.

"H-how can I do anything?" Draco asked desperately. "I don't know how to save him."

Dumbledore did not look at him when he spoke next. "Professor Snape had confidentially let me in on the fact that the Malfoy Garden grows many different kinds of flowers, pure and... poisonous ones."

Draco felt anger surged in him. "Are you saying...?"

"I'm not implying anything," Dumbledore cut him off sharply. "I'm just telling you that, and what you're going to do with that knowledge is up to you." He sighed, then turned around, so that his back was facing Draco. "Fawkes has just been reborn this morning, so he won't be any use now to Harry. There is two days left until the effect of the phoenix tears run out, and then..."

The unspoken truth hung in the air like an evil aura, suffocating them. Draco watched as Dumbledore walked out of the infirmary, and without the comforting presence of the headmaster, Draco felt very much confused and alone. His eyes returned to Harry's motionless body on the bed, breathing so quietly and unnoticeably that he seemed almost... dead. Then he looked at Ron and Hermione.

Ron left Hermione's side and came up to him. "I don't like you," Ron said, and Draco was startled at the directness of the statement. "What Harry sees in you is beyond me, but I guess I have to give you some credit for saving Harry last year. To be honest, I was surprised to know that _you_, of all people, saved Harry."

Draco was indignant, but that feeling was squashed by the pride of knowing that it was he who saved Harry, not anyone else, when Harry was in the hands of death.

But he's in the hands of death now, Malfoy, what are you going to do to save him? Or are you going to leave him there? that horrible voice was so mockingly sweet that it made Draco sick.

"Are you serious?" Ron asked, and Draco knew what he was talking about.

Was he serious about Harry?

_Of course_. "I don't have to justify anything to you," Draco snapped.

Ron shrugged, trying to hide his anger at the rudeness, but he wasn't doing a very good job at it. "No, you don't, and I don't need to know either." The lie was so obvious that Draco wanted to laugh. "Just let me tell you that if you don't save him this time, Malfoy, I will hunt you down to the end of earth, and I will not leave you alone until the day I die."

"Are you threatening me, Weasley?"

"Yes, I am," Ron admitted honestly. "And don't think it's an empty threat, because it's not. I would go and save Harry myself if I can, but obviously, I can't, so as much as I hate to say it, it has to be you."

"I'm not listening to you!" Draco said stubbornly, even though inside, he was wondering why he has to contradict everything he thought, know, needed to do.

"Draco," Hermione quiet voice adverted his attention to her. "Look at Harry."

Draco did. Somehow, in the depths of his mind, he knew that this day was going to come, that it would be one of them who would die, and it was up to the other to save the dying one. Harry had been so trusting. When Draco looked into his eyes, he could see that Harry believed he would save him from everything, anything, just like he did once. Harry had faith in him, believed in him, _trusted_ him, and... and he couldn't fail Harry. Not now. Not when they were finally together.

But to openly defy his father... it was a thought that terrified him. He couldn't do it. He couldn't face the fact that if he go against Lucius, his _father_, his creator, then he has done the most sinful thing in the world. He'd grown up to believe everything Lucius said, foolishly, blindly, just because he was Draco's father!

Then he met Harry, didn't he? Didn't Harry show him a different world? Didn't Harry make him question his thoughts and point of view? Didn't Harry teach him there are more to life than power and his own needs and wants? Didn't Harry let him feel an emotion that he had not felt in such a long time that he forgot all about it? An emotion that he craved for, even though he didn't know?

I'm a weakling, Draco thought furiously at himself,_ I'm a coward. I don't deserve to be with him. I don't even have enough courage to save him_.

It's not about deserving or not, this time, it was the voice of reason that was echoing in his mind. _It's not up to you to decide if you deserve him or not. And he can't decide if he's dead_.

He can't die! He won't _die! I won't let him!_ Draco thought with determination. The voice in his head seemed like it was chuckling in satisfaction.

Why won't you let him die? It's because you love him. It's because you will lose a part of yourself if he dies. You're making up excuses, Draco, you're afraid of your father? Afraid of who_ that is above your father, aren't you_?

Draco felt his head pounded violently. _Yes_.

But why are you afraid? You did know that it would come down to this. Your loyalty to your father... Voldemort, and your love for him. You shouldn't be afraid.

But I am. I am. I'm not brave like him. Or good as him. I'll fail him.

He doesn't care if you're brave or not, if you're as good as him or not. Maybe it's because of what you're not and are that he liked you? Don't fail him, not now, Draco, you're better than that. You still need to know if he loves you or not.

Yes. Harry... does Harry love him? He needed to know. But he's afraid to know. He didn't know what he wanted.

But you do know what you want. You're not admitting it. I thought you've already made up your mind. Why are you questioning so many things? This is no time for questioning; he has only two days. Are you really going to give him up? Just because of your father? Someone who make you think and do what he wanted?

Draco didn't know what to think.

Besides, Draco, you should have known that when you kissed him last night, you've sealed your fate.

Draco jerked out of his thoughts, and Harry's ashen face came into view again.

My fate...

P.a.R.t.T.h.I.r.T.y.O.n.E.d.O.n.E

Draco stood before the seventh year boy dorm, staring at the gold and red paint that was peeling off on the wood, and thought that this was probably the stupidest thing he'd ever done.

After much thinking, Draco decided that he must see Seamus for very apparent reasons. Draco had told himself that for Harry's sake, he will speak to Seamus civilly, and will control his anger when all he wanted was to mutilate the Gryffindor.

Taking a deep breath, Draco's hand reached for the handle, and before he could open the door, it opened itself and out came Seamus Finnigan.

All his control and calmness disappeared when the face came into view and immediately his hands made to grab at Seamus' neck.

"HEY!" Seamus cried, his eyes widened as he staggered back, dropping his trunk and trying, quite frantically, to pry Draco's hands off his neck.

Somewhere in the back of his head, Draco faintly heard a voice yelling at him that before he kill Seamus, he needed to ask his questions first.

With his eyes blazed with dark fire, Draco reluctantly dropped his hands.

Seamus breathed in rapidly, backing away from Draco and eyeing him warily, albeit shamefully. "What are you doing here in the Gryffindor Tower?" he asked quietly.

Draco glared at Seamus, and the Gryffindor lowered his eyes to the floor. "To kill you with my bare hands," Draco said menacingly, and Seamus winced.

"Look here, Malfoy, last night, well, it was a mistake," Seamus began.

"A mistake?" Draco raged. "Well, just let me tell you that a few more mistakes like that again, and you'll be Voldemort's number one favorite."

Seamus flinched at the name. "I never meant to harm Harry, I don't know what came over me, and I'm very sorry..."

"It's not me you should be saying sorry to," Draco said coldly.

Seamus was silent.

Draco gave him another glare, and shoved him back into the dorm, with the Slytherin stepping in and closing the door behind him.

Seamus watched Draco anxiously, wondering what the Slytherin was up to now. His eyes widened when the blonde took out his wand. "What are you doing?!"

Draco advanced on him, and pushed Seamus so that he tripped over someone's book and fell down on the floor. "You," Draco said slowly and clearly, as if to a two-year-old, "are going to tell me exactly what had driven you to try and hex Harry like that."

I wasn't, god, I never thought it would hit Harry. I never meant to. It was my uncontrolled anger. "I told you already, it was a mistake. I didn't mean to. When I saw you and Harry... well... and the next thing I know, Harry was..." Seamus was keen not to speak anymore than that.

Draco's wand was pressed against his throat. Seamus raised his eyes to Draco's face. "You better be honest, Finnigan, because that might be the key to save your miserable life."

"If you don't believe me then don't ask," Seamus said fiercely. "I might have hurt Harry unintentionally, but that doesn't give you the right to come here and talk to me like that." He looked Draco straight in the eyes, not backing down.

Draco growled and Seamus sighed in relief when the wand was retreated. "Okay, answer this: How did you know we were at the Astronomy Tower?"

Seamus briefly and subconsciously remembered the scene in the room last night, in the Astronomy Tower, then said, "I overheard someone talking about it."

"Who's that someone?" Draco asked, suddenly realized that there weren't many who know about Draco and Harry's little meetings.

"A Slytherin, I think," Seamus said. "I was just walking around outside when I saw two figures behind a tree, talking about you and Harry."

Something in Draco's mind registered. "A Slytherin? Are you sure it was a Slytherin?"

"It might as well have been. I saw them wearing green scarf, so..."

"Was it a male or a female voice?" Draco's voice was urgent, arousing Seamus' interest greatly.

"Male," Seamus answered automatically. "Why are you asking?"

Draco's hand fell to his side, his eyes blank, not answering Seamus' question. Seamus rubbed his neck, looking at Draco curiously.

Draco swore and then he ran out of the Gryffindor Tower.

"Wait! What is going on?" Seamus shouted after the Slytherin, but received no answer.

He sighed dejectedly, and looked back at the place Draco was standing, and one last glance around the room, until his eyes fell to Harry's bed.

Then he broke down into tears.

Draco, meanwhile, was practically breaking his neck running to the Slytherin Dungeon. His mind was racing with many possibilities and fears. If his assumption was correct, then this whole thing was all...

"Mr. Malfoy!"

Draco staggered back, looking up to the person he bumped into. "Severus! I mean, Professor Snape!" Draco exclaimed, panting.

"What's the hurry?"

"Blaise. Professor, do you know where Blaise is?" Draco asked urgently, finding that he couldn't stand still.

Snape raised an eyebrow at Draco's strange behavior. "No, Draco, in fact, I was about to ask you where he was. He was supposed to meet me this evening on this project he's doing and he hasn't shown up. I have been looking for him, but he wasn't in the dungeons."

Draco had to lean back against the wall to stop himself from falling. Then it was true. What he thought. Blaise must have...

"Professor, this is important, do you know if Blaise is still in the castle?"

"I don't know," Snape said, looking surprised at the alarmed voice. "But I could always check for you."

"Please," Draco said anxiously.

"Don't bother, he's not in the castle," a voice said, in an annoying, sing-song voice.

Draco and Snape looked up to find a Slytherin girl dangling on the staircase.

If it wasn't because of the urgency of the situation Snape would probably have take points off the girl for dangling there.

"What are you talking about, Artemis?" Draco asked.

Her eyes gleamed brightly. "Oh, didn't you know? Blaise Portkey-ed out of Hogwarts when you left him there in Magical Creatures. The poor boy, he was so shocked when he overheard that you and little Harry were snogging the living daylight out of each other in the Astronomy Tower last night."

"We weren't snogging!" Draco yelled indignantly.

Snape looked at him. "Draco... what is this?"

Draco refused to meet Snape's eyes, hoping that his face wasn't red right now, and wondered why they were talking about this kind of things in the first place. "Nothing," Draco muttered.

"Nothing?" The girl called Artemis smiled wickedly. "Believe it or not, Draco love, I was there in that room, and I saw _everything_," she emphasized the last word. "I even have the recorded version of it! Wanna see?"

"NO!"

"Draco, is there something you're not telling me?" Snape asked, crossing his arms.

"It's a long story," was all Draco offered. Even if Snape was his godfather, there was no way he was going to tell him about he and Harry until the time was right. Now, it was best that he concentrated on saving the Gryffindor.

"Hmmm..."

Draco ignored his godfather and returned his attention to Artemis. "Did he tell you where he went?"

"Sure!" Artemis said, and, fifteen feet from above, she jumped down, landing gracefully in front of Draco. "Blaisie said he needed to tell your father of what was happening, because he thinks little Harry used a Love Potion on you or something. I, however, don't think so!" That sing-song voice was getting on Draco's nerves.

"My father?" Draco said. "But he can't Portkey into the Malfoy Manor!"

"Didn't you know, mon beau?" Artemis said, her amber eyes flashing with a childish kind of glee. "Your father made him that Portkey. Why else do you think your father would know everything that's going on in your life so quickly? By owl?" She shook her head and waggled a finger. "You're so... clueless."

Draco decided to let that one slide this time, and looked back at Snape. "Severus, I think I need to go."

Severus nodded curtly. "I understand. I'll start the fire for you."

"No need," Draco shook his head, smirking a little and grabbing onto Artemis's arm. "This little girl is going to take me to the Malfoy Manor."

"What?!" Artemis exclaimed, yanking her arm away from Draco. "No way, Draco!! I'm not going there!"

"You either go with me, or stay with Crabbe and Goyle," Draco said, not wanting to waste too much time, as he already had. "It's your loss." He shrugged carelessly.

Artemis looked over to Snape for help. "Severus! Severus! Help me! You can't let him take me away!"

"I don't have any idea what you're talking about," Snape said blandly, "and it's Professor Snape to you."

"Draco! This is not fair!" Artemis sulked. "Why must I go with you? Luna can..."

"No," Draco said firmly. "She's a bloody Gryffindor, and weak, and her roommates will get suspicious if she disappears."

"My roommate will get suspicious, too!" Artemis argued hotly.

"But Renna won't say anything," Draco counteracted. "That's the way of Slytherins. You should know that."

"But I _hate_ the Malfoy Manor!" Artemis whinned. "Lucius is going to _kill_ me if he knows I help you!"

"I won't let him as long as I'm alive ("But what if you're not?" Artemis demanded)," Draco said firmly. "Now, let's go. We're wasting time."

Artemis grudgingly nodded, and Draco lowered his hand to hold her.

"Wait."

Draco turned back to Snape.

"Take this with you," Snape said, pressing into his hand a vial with a strange color of red. "This is Potter's blood. I have neutralized the basilisk's venom, so now it's only the seven flowers that you need to worry about. Go to the Malfoy library and check under the _Poisonous Insects and Plants_ section. The book, whichever one it is, will have a color chart. See which color matches the blood in this vial, and it will have the names of the seven flowers that resulted this poison. I'm pretty sure that the seven flowers are all in the Malfoy Garden. Get them, but remember, don't mistake anything with anything."

Draco nodded seriously. "Thanks, Severus, I..."

"Never mind, just go, Draco. You have two days, so be quick."

"I will," Draco said, and to Artemis, "Let's go, Artemis."

"Yes sir," Artemis said, rolling her eyes, then she closed them tightly.

Smokes of power rose from the ground, surrounding them, and Draco felt a coolness spread through his body before his conscious fell away.

Snape watched as the smokes dissipated, and the two Slytherins were gone.

P.a.R.t.T.h.I.r.T.y.T.w.O.d.O.n.E

c h a p t e r . F O U R. e n d...

* to be continued in chapter 6 - the decision *

* * *

A/N: Things that were supposed to be in _this_ chapter:

1. Hermione and Ron walk in on them kissing

2. Seamus gets jealous and acts like an idiot

3. Something about Harry that was supposed to be revealed

4. Christmas with Remus and Sirius

5. Sirius's secret

6. Harry asks his godfather about ... dating

So are you surprised of how this chapter turned out? I was.

I'm very sorry about the new character. Artemis was not supposed to be in this story, but what done is done. I thought part thirty-two is such ...., especially Draco and Seamus' dialogue. I wished I had done differently. I did try to change it, but unfortunately, I couldn't fully make it perfect, so, I'm very sorry.

Many thanks to a very encouraging reader who reviewed and let me know about my work. I greatly appreciate it. I'm extremely sorry and I hope you're not offended that I don't remember your pen name (please forgive me ^~^) I'm very glad that you like my story, and yes, I rather thought that the amnesia thing was quite boring too. However, it makes me happy to know that the story is going on another direction from now on ^_~.

I do play the violin. I've been playing for three years (this is my fourth). Now I really want to play the cello. Actually, it's because I want to play the cello so much that I made Draco play the cello in the story. However, since I'm in Advanced Orchestra, I can't go back to begin playing the cello, so that suck. I rarely play for real, since it's really hard to get me into the mood, and I'm very easily distracted, which is one thing I hated the most. But I do think that there's such thing as emotions through music, so I wrote those parts of Draco playing the cello, and I'm glad I've gotten the result I wanted from my readers. I really like your reviews, by the way, it's helping a lot, and I'm quite flattered *blushes* 

I like your reviews, so I decided to give you a present: a quick view of the next chapter (unbeta)!

_The touches and kisses and whispers all dissolve into emptiness..._

..."Hello, Harry."

He turns, and the darkness closes itself around him.

Another reader I would like to give thanks to for pointing out the word I spelled incorrectly in the first chapter. I do have a beta reader, actually, and she's my partner in crime. H.I. is the best beta I could hope for, although sometimes she makes me wonder if I should get another one... but she's doing her best to help me with my story, so thanks to you too, H.I. I do spelling check when I finished a chapter, and I really do try to read it over again to make changes, so I apologize for that little incorrect spelling. 

Next chapter: Draco gets to the Malfoy Manor and faces his father, along with the truth he's been running away from. How exactly did Draco poison Harry? Why did Dean and Neville look so shocked when they saw the map? Who is Artemis? What's her relationship with the Slytherins and Luna? The cure for the poison will be very unexpected, or so I hope!

Loves and hugs to all my readers. I love to hear comments, sweet supports, and suggestions. Oh, and I really want to know what you think will happen next!

See you in the next chapter!


	6. The Decision

M e m o r i e s . o f . m e...

* * ** * ** * *

C.h.a.p.t.e.r.6 - the decision...

__

Severus found Draco sitting on the bench in the Malfoy Garden, his feet dangling from the ground, gray eyes cast down to the clasped hands on his lap. Draco's hair fell messily over his face, but he didn't brush them away, nor seemed to notice it. The mood was so broody that even the trees and flowers seemed to be sharing the despair.

Severus stepped over to Draco, and kneeled down in front of the little boy.

Draco was not crying. In fact, his eyes were dry, and normal... no, not normal, because the light that always present in them was now an emptiness reaching far into the darkness.

"Draco," Severus spoke very softly, "look at me."

Draco looked up, but his eyes were still a stretch of blankness that pained Severus to see it.

"What are you feeling?" Severus asked.

Draco shook his head. "Nothing." And Severus knew he meant it.

"You can cry, Draco, no one asks you to keep everything inside," Severus said tightly, his face showed barely controlled sadness.

Draco's head shook again. "I don't feel like crying," he said, and it truly, honestly frightened Severus to hear the flat tone, coming out from a eight-year-old. But then again, one could never expect anything less from a Malfoy.

And he did the only thing he could, and had ever did.

He pulled Draco into his arms and stroke the boy's hair lovingly. "Cry, Draco, be sad, be angry, just don't feel nothing, because you will hurt the people who cared for you if you do," Severus said, closing his eyes. He felt near tears himself.

"Father told me I'm not to cry," Draco said flatly. "It's not manly."

"Idiot," Severus said, smiling slightly and mentally planning to have a talk with Lucius. "You're not a man yet. You're just a little boy, and little boys are allowed to cry."

For a long time there was only the sound of water falling down into the fountain and the trees whispering sadness to the wind, soft brushes of wind trying to take away the pain.

Severus heard a small gasp. Wetness dampened his cloak, and then Draco was crying. Severus tightened his arms around the smaller frame, stroking his hair while muttering nothingness into his ear.

"Grandma... Grandma..." Draco choked, closing his eyes and feeling them burning behind his eyelids.

Severus breathed in deeply, his eyes closing themselves. He knew exactly why Draco was so depressed. He knew exactly how Draco's grandmother died. And he knew exactly how Lucius told Draco the news.

'You mustn't despair, my little dragon, because her end served justice. She did not live up to the Malfoy name.'

And he had thought Lucius would show some respectfulness to his own mother. Or at least, Severus thought, feeling the blond boy shaking, took a different tactic into telling Draco the news. The boy was still young, too young to be feeling something so deeply and strongly grievous. God, has Lucius no heart?

When the shaking subsided, Severus continued to hold his godson, listening to the quiet sobs fading into silence. He pulled away and looked at Draco's red eyes.

"How are you feeling?"

Draco's eyes were like two pools of helplessness and grief. "Grandma's dead, Severus. I won't ever see her again," Draco said mournfully, and through the mist of understanding and sympathy, Severus was relieved to hear something_ in the boy's voice._

"Severus, grandma's dead..." Draco's lower lip trembled, and a single tear fell down his eye.

A surge of loathing swelled up in Severus' heart, and for a moment he wanted to tell Draco exactly why his grandma was dead, but seeing such intense pain in Draco, he just couldn't do it. Maybe one day, when Draco understood all the cruelty and ruthlessness of this world.

Or to be more precise, of Draco's own father.

"She's not truly dead, Draco," Severus said, after taking in several deep breaths.

Draco's eyes jerked up to look into his, hope filled his stormy-colored eyes. "She's not?"

"No," Severus said. "Even though you won't be able to see or talk to her, she's always with you. Right now, she's just somewhere else, where it's very peaceful and happy."

"Where is it? I want to go and see her!" Draco demanded, pulling at Severus' sleeve.

Patiently, Severus shook his head. "You can't go there, Draco. But know that she's always very near you, and she loved you."

"I loved her, too," Draco said tremulously, "but she left me."

"She didn't want to, but she had to, Draco." And it's all that vindictive...

__

"Why?" Draco's question was demanding an answer.

"Because bad people made her leave," was all Severus could offer.

"Who?" Draco's eyes were now a dark color of gray.

"You don't have to know, Draco, not now. Just know that don't ever become one of those bad people, because you have a heart."

"They don't?"

Severus just couldn't look into Draco's eyes when he answered.

"No, they don't."

Five days later, Severus met Draco again. Although this time, the little boy was not Draco, but a completely different person. He was no longer innocent and loving, but ... he was just like his father.

An exact image of Lucius Malfoy, and no matter know much Severus tried to change him, all was in vain.

And he knew, he just knew that the sudden change in Draco must have something to do with Lucius.

He didn't find out what it was until years later, and it was all thanks to Harry Potter.

P.a.R.t.T.h.I.r.T.y.T.w.O.d.O.n.E

Gentle fingers, stroking his cheek lightly, tenderly, as if he is a precious, fragile creature that might break with just a little pressure. Sweet nothingness mingles with the silence that reaches him through his heart. Understanding without hearing. Knowing without seeing.

Warm breaths ghost over his face, feather-light kisses brush his cheek, whispers seep through him, sending a thrilling kind of shiver up his spine. Then the whispers stop, the caresses pause in their movements, leaving him yearning for more.

A slow, hesitate touch to his forehead, brushing his hair away. He sighs, wanting to reach out to the source of his contentment.

Shock washes through him when he realizes he couldn't move at all, and startles, his eyes snap open.

Except when they don't.

What... is this numbness? The inability to move? Where am I? Another side of the world? Am I... dead? Who could that be that is showering sweet kisses on me? Tender caresses...

__

They're fake.

The touches and kisses and whispers all dissolve into emptiness as he jerks back, pushes by an invisible force. The coldness makes itself known to him.

Where has that calming feeling gone to?

Laughter fills his ears, chilling his insides, and then he is standing in the middle of darkness.

Alone.

"Hello, Harry."

He turns, and the darkness closes itself around him.

P.a.R.t.T.h.I.r.T.y.T.h.R.e.E.d.O.n.E

__

November 13, 1997... after midnight...

When consciousness called him back to reality, Draco was lying in the dungeon of the Malfoy Manor.

Slowly, the haziness diffused, leaving a clear path for the shock to kick in.

Draco jumped up, shaking his head and looked around.

The first thing he noticed was that it was dark.

The second thing he noticed was that Artemis was not with him.

That news leisurely took its time to make itself understood in Draco's mind, and when it did, Draco did the only thing he could think of doing.

He cursed, desperately. Artemis was the source that could get him back to Hogwarts, and without her here, it could only mean two things: she had went back to Hogwarts, too afraid to stay...

Or she had gone to his father and tell him of his arrival.

Either way, it couldn't be good, and he must act quickly.

Draco felt his way out of the dungeon. This was the first time he'd gone so deep into the dungeon, and the heavy silence was pressing him down. Draco tried to keep his eyes away from the cells, but once in a while they would stray to the gray dullness in one of the cells and, seeing the dry-up skeletons. He turned away and felt sick.

He had only been here _once_, and didn't even go that far into this frightful place. It was when he was young, the summer before he started his first year. His father had been with him, leading him through this empty passages, except for the cries of the prisoners. Oh yes, there were prisoners then. Muggles, mostly. He really had no idea how or why Lucius held them captive, or for how long? He wondered, briefly, if they have family, and if so, then were they worried? Were they still waiting for those prisoned in this dungeons? Or had they forgotten about them?

He had hated himself for thinking such things. He shouldn't have been thinking like that. He'd grown up listening to his father talked about life, power, and those beneath them, namely, Muggles and non pure-blooded wizards. They were not worth it. Not worth the time of a Malfoy. Besides, they were inferior to those such as the Malfoys. They were the lesser, vile creatures. Now he wondered if it were them that were the vile creatures, or he and his father.

Draco regretted the fact that he was so naive. He wished he had been thinking, when he was young, then maybe he would've seen what his father was doing to him - shaping him - fooling him into believing something that was so wrong, blinding his own wants and needs and _his_ choices.

He wondered if it wasn't for Harry - Harry who opened his eyes and mind and heart and told him through fierce looks and trusting smiles and comforting gestures everything he needed to know and wanted... then would he still be drinking in his father's words and his motives oh so trustingly? Draco didn't really want to answer that question.

The shadows flickered gently on the walls as the hall became less darker. The last of those cold, metal bars disappeared from view as staircase loomed nearer, revealing the path up to the castle, away from the dungeon... the cold darkness.

Draco's hands began to sweat. For all of his brave, determined thoughts, for all of his secret promises and decisions, he still didn't know if he would be able to face his father. There it was again: his cowardice.

He was no Gryffindor. He has no courage and wasn't intrepid like Harry. No, he was a Slytherin, and a Slytherin thinks for himself. But he was thinking for Harry, wasn't he?

__

No, you're not thinking about Harry. You're thinking about yourself. You know if he dies, a part of yourself will die with him, and you don't want that, therefore, you must save him, that irritating voice was really getting under skin now.

He didn't care anymore if he was doing this for himself or Harry. All he knew that there was someone out there, lying on a bed of white sheets, seemingly dead and unresponsive and oblivious to the world, and he must get back in time to save him.

But could he? What if his father found out? What if his father prevented him from going back to Harry? What if...

There were too many 'what if's, and Draco wished he would just stop being so damn indecisive! Right now he needed to push these thoughts away. Whatever that will come, he will have to face it. For now, he has to find the cure.

As Draco climbed the stairs, he was met with a blinding white light. He blinked, and a few seconds later, the corridor of the Malfoy Manor came into view.

Draco swallowed at the familiarity of his home - from the paintings of his ancestors and the bloody battlefields to the creamy-white paint on the walls and the marble floor, and felt a sudden queasy feeling in his stomach. Determinedly Draco pushed the feeling aside and made for the library as quietly and furtively as he could, but he knew that the triggering spells his father placed around the place would alert the man immediately of the appearances sudden guests... and in this case, Draco. Even if that was so, Draco still kept on hoping that his father wouldn't come so quickly and not before he has gotten his hands on whichever book he needed.

The paintings on the corridors stared down at him with the same, almost identical faces: light blond hair glittering like silver, sharp, shielded eyes that hid the cruelty behind them, the infamous smirk that stretched across the creamy-pale face as if mocking, taunting, luring...

Draco tore his eyes away from them. The family expectations were keeping up with him, the threats that were trying to take him away from the only source of love. If he wanted to save Harry, he has to pull himself together and forget about his stupid family's name and the things he has to do because it was his _destiny_.

__

No, Draco decided firmly, I'm_ going to choose my own destiny, not the Dark Lord, and not you, father. Not you. No one will keep me away from Harry._

No one.

P.a.R.t.T.h.I.r.T.y.F.o.U.r.D.o.N.e

The shadows flickering against the stone wall, their shapes ominous and full of dark deeds, just like the master of this room.

The room was made out of stone, from the floor to every inch of the walls and ceilings, leaving an empty space for the window, framed by silver that was sketched delicately and mysteriously, as if every design, every curve, line, has a deeper meaning that will reveal the secret of darkness. The curtains were red velvet, pulled back by simple, golden ropes and glimmered dully.

A large, mahogany desk was placed in front of the window, full of papers and books and odd objects that normal wizards wouldn't be able to identify them. Between the desk and the window an impressive, real leather chair was seen.

And on that chair sat Lucius Malfoy.

Now, Lucius Malfoy was not a man with much leisure, with all his Ministry works and, in addition to that, the important meetings with Voldemort.

However, today was a special day, as it has proven to be when his son, Draco Malfoy, appeared in the dungeon by Apparation with the help of his pretty, childish spy: Artemis Lovegood. Of course Draco didn't know Artemis was Lucius's private spy, otherwise he would've been very cautious around her, and that just added more of the fun to it. Lucius has planned out everything very carefully, first letting Draco meet Artemis and slowly while secretly helped Artemis become Draco's friend. Oh, everything had gone perfectly enough, and Draco had obliviously being very imprudent around Artemis, allowing her the chance to report all news about Draco.

And of course, Draco didn't know that Blaise was also Lucius's spy... innocently enough.

A smirk eased itself across the high, strong cheekbones of Lucius's with years of practice. Draco had, again, carelessly forgotten one of his early lessons in his childhood: _never let your guard down with anyone, especially your closest, for they proved to be the most dangerous_.

But it served his purposes, so Lucius will not admonish his son.

However, Lucius was most displeased - yes, he was displeased, but not angered - when Blaise had Portkey-ed to the Malfoy Manor and told him about the Love Potion he believed Potter had forced Draco to drink.

The smirk widened slightly. The fool to think of such thing. Love Potion would work when one mixes it with another liquid substance or disguises it as a drink, but if the potion is to force down someone's throat, it will become fatal to whom that made it. That was a side-effect of the Potion.

No, Potter did not force Draco to drink anything, and no magic was used at all. Draco, it seemed, has fallen for The Enemy.

Now, this could prove very hard for a man of great importance and pride like Lucius Malfoy, as his only heir was supposed to marry a woman and produce a new heir to continue their bloodline, and one would suppose the father will be angry, but Lucius was not. He was displeased, and yet satisfied.

Blaise's information was nothing new to him, really, for Artemis has already provided him with everything he needed to know - long before Draco was able to figure out his feelings... long enough for Lucius to develop a plan to destroy the Boy-Who-Lived once and for all.

And Blaise had helped, of course. Under the Imperius the boy could do nothing but to obey him, and obeyed Lucius Blaise did.

He succeeded his task, therefore making Draco poison Harry Potter without even realizing it, and now, bringing his son back to the Malfoy Manor willingly, without Lucius putting in any effort to take his son out of school. Dumbledore was more blind and foolish than Lucius thought he was.

"Master, it is time," a deep voice rolled to Lucius's ears in a breathy whisper, as if a serpent was hissing.

Lucius stood and turned around, smiling in amusement. "Of course, Artemis, let us attend to greet my son of his homecoming."

Artemis's eyes flashed red as she exited with Lucius wordlessly.

The clouds shifted in the sky, letting the moon out and allowing the light to pass through the window.

The dull glimmer rested on the spot next to Lucius's desk, revealing a horror-stricken, dead face of Blaise Zabini.

P.a.R.t.T.h.I.r.T.y.F.i.V.e.D.o.N.e

Harry stood there, upon the vast darkness that seemed to be endless, like the universe, except that there was no light visible.

__

"Hello, Harry."

Harry could only stare across from himself, speechless, as his own image gazed back at him coolly, a smirk splattered on his face.

It was impossible, Harry thought desperately, silently watching as his self came closer, every step measured and light, careless yet planned.

"Oh, I assure you, Harry, it is very much possible," Harry's self said, smirking widely.

Harry, instinctively, took a step backwards. The duplicate raised an eyebrow questioningly, and then understanding flickered in his eyes. "You're afraid of me, aren't you?"

Harry didn't answer, remaining muted and staring at himself. This was completely insane! How could he be right there when he was... right here? Was this the poison's work? Could he be dreaming? Or was this a trickery of mind?

"Hmm, you're most certainly not dreaming, and your mind's not playing trick on you, either," the duplicated version of Harry said thoughtfully. "The poison didn't do this. It simply paralyzes your body and drinks your energy until you're dry and wasting away your body." Those green eyes were dark with red rimmed around them. "And as for you, I am you, of course. The Dark you."

His legs suddenly shook, and he slid down to his knees, eyes never leaving himself. It was then that Harry saw the differences between them. The Harry standing has deeper green eyes that reflected like the color of blood. His cheeks were hollow and his mouth twisted into a terrible smirk that was so much like... the Draco he once knew. He was wearing Hogwarts robes, too, but the badge was... _of Slytherin_.

Harry's eyes widened. _No, this couldn't be true... he thought he had left it all behind when he was sorted into Gryffindor. How could there be a darker side of himself? There was no way it could be possible. He wasn't evil. He was harmless..._

"Harmless?" The Dark Harry mused. "I vaguely have a recollection of someone's evil thought wanting to kill Lucius Malfoy. Wasn't it just a few months ago? When Severus nearly died?"

__

It was for protection, Harry thought weakly, _and I was not aware of myself doing it. I wouldn't have..._

"Wouldn't you?" Dark Harry challenged, his eyes held Harry's firmly. "You must have known of the reason _why_, did you?" Harry wanted to cover his ears, to block out that voice, but it was echoing in his mind, too, each and every word was the unmistakable truth. "Of course you do. You were just too afraid to admit it, therefore your mind shut the truth from you. And they praise you as a hero." The eyes flashed, and for a moment, Harry was reminded of Tom Riddle.

"There is a darker side to everyone, every living being, and every nonliving being. People think they're good, innocent, evil-less, but have you ever thought of _why_ people fight? Wars, deaths, killings, violence - where do they all come from? The darker side of yourself, of course. Hatred is part of your Darker Side. Muggles can only kill and hurt, but wizards," Dark Harry's eyes were now slits of red, "we can do worst." The icy whisper chilled Harry to the depths of his soul.

"You triggered your Darker Side, Harry," the duplicate said, "or more specifically named, me. _You_ were the one who released me and allowed me to collect your power - the power that feeds on hatred, violence, the want to hurt and kill. Those, of course, qualified in your condition, and therefore, enable me to release my power in the form of fire: the most powerful and deathly form of Darkness."

Dark Harry glanced down at him carelessly, seeming disgusted. "Look at yourself. You're a weakling, nothing more but a mere Muggle with magical powers. What a waste that the strong bloodline was passed down to such weak-hearted fool like yourself!"

Anger formed slowly in the pit of his stomach as green fire burst in his eyes, darkening like the Forbidden Forest blending into the night, and he spoke for the first time, "I may be a weakling, but at least I'm not a foul and vile creature such as you!"

A humorless smile graced the other's face. "That may be so, but don't forget, Harry, I am a part of you. _You_ created me. If it wasn't because of you I wouldn't be existing, so I guess I owe that to you." He did a small bow, his eyes grinning mockingly at him, his action taunting, as if trying to incite a suppressed darkness inside him, trying to rise that burning acidic form that was hidden within...

Harry jerked back. _How dare you!_ He thought angrily.

Dark Harry straightened himself, shrugging. "So you see through my game." Another hateful glance. "But that is expected from one that has escaped the most powerful wizard in century."

"Dumbledore is the greatest wizard in century," Harry gritted through his teeth, positively livid.

"Without the courage to act on his greatness where it is better used," Dark Harry retorted. "Dumbledore may be the best wizard, but he is a fool. He cares far too much to be able to achieve something greater, and that is his weakness."

"Love and affection are what that make us different and stronger than you," Harry said, not backing down.

"No, they are what taking you down to your knees," Dark Harry replied swiftly and coldly. "They blind you and misguide you, hurt you and kill you." His eyes were now as black as coal as they bored down to him emotionlessly. "Or haven't you noticed?"

The words shocked Harry into silence. His eyes darted around, as if expecting the hateful truths to jump out and wrap their slimy, foul hands around him. His Dark Side noticed his uneasiness, and smiled. "So you did. You know very well that when you decided to be with him, you have put your life in danger. You allowed that to happen," he sounded quite disgusted at this. "Putting _me_ in the face of death, you unthoughtful brat."

Harry glared, resentment clearly shown in his eyes. "_I love him_," Harry said, knowing and understanding wholly every word he was saying.

"And you decided to show your love to him with lies." Again that triumphant smirk appeared, and Harry hated it so much he just wanted to rip that mouth - his own mouth - into little pieces of skin. Dark Harry smirked even more, eyes blazing with a greedy spark and an evil that resembled so much of Voldemort. "Is that how the great hero of the wizarding world shows his love? By pouring lies?"

Harry didn't say anything - he didn't answer, because he knew that the Darker Side spoke truth, and he has no excuse for himself. He did lie to Draco, and guilt has been haunting his mind ever since.

"Where has that Gryffindor bravery gone to?" Dark Harry mocked, causing the bitterness inside Harry to rise to surface. "When have you become uncertain of yourself and your judgment?"

Harry refused to speak, knowing that nothing he said will contradict him, because it was his own self who was speaking to him, and no one knew him better than himself. "You didn't want him to know you've gotten back your memories, afraid that he's going to leave you, aren't you? You think he only loves the obedient, clueless little Potter who couldn't even take care of his own self and going around acting like a child when he's almost a grown man?"

__

Yes, Harry admitted quietly, trembling from the inner turmoil that was trying to shred him apart. _I love him, I don't want him to leave me_.

"Harry, Harry," Darker Side said in a voice of mock sadness, "you little fool. Do you really thinks he truly loved you? He's only playing you, playing you into death."

Harry's head snapped up, disbelief flashed in his eyes. "You're lying," he whispered.

"He was the one who poisoned you," Dark Harry said shortly, his tone vicious and cruel. "His poison-stained hand touched your wound, paralyzing you, and now you're dying from it."

"Draco would never hurt me!" Harry argued heatedly, the painful fact refused to seep in.

"Wouldn't he? Do you truly know what he's thinking, what he's planning for you, Harry? Who knows, maybe he's plotting something to bring you to Voldemort. He's just like his father, you know? All he wants is power, and he will stop at nothing to get it."

"NO!" Harry shouted angrily, hands covering his ears even though he knew it was useless. "He's different! He's changed!"

"Did he really? You know he's a better actor than anyone else. You wouldn't know if he's honest or just plain lying," Dark Harry was merciless in his words as he advanced on Harry, towering over him like a shadow that was about to consume the little boy.

"He saved me," Harry whispered in anguish, his eyes pleading - begging for his other self to stop talking.

"Perhaps that is so, but perhaps it's a part of the greater scheme he has behind his sleeve to get you to Voldemort," Dark Harry said, completely ignoring the pleads. "He doesn't love you, why don't you just face reality?"

Cold fingers tilted his chin upwards and he stared into bottomless pits of red and black. "No one will approve of this relationship. You see the way your friends looked at you, the way your _godfather_ looked at you when you told them. They will try to break you both apart, and they will succeed." The satisfied smile spread out across the tan face, seeing that his goal was half way completed. The boy was falling into his trap.

"Draco won't leave me," Harry murmured when his mind was half covered with doubts, lies mingling with the truths, leaving him confused and lost.

"He has to," Dark Harry said shortly. "He is too much of a coward to leave his father and face the consequences. He will join Voldemort, Harry, like we all expect, and you will have to fight him on the battle field. And if even then you still aren't convinced, his thoughtless spell will break your mind and shatter your heart, and along with it taking your life."

Harry's eyes slowly closed as the shadows thronged around him, reaching out, pulling him, their breaths felt evil like those of the Dementors as they got closer.

__

"Let go, Harry, then you will feel better." Words ghosted across his mind faintly, intoxicating him, drunken him in its sweet scent, and the option seemed so tempting...

Harry's eyes snapped open, dark and blank, and as quick as lightning his hands shot up to wrap around the other's throat.

P.a.R.t.T.h.I.r.T.y.S.i.X.d.O.n.E

Hermione didn't leave Harry's side. She stayed by him, both her hands wrapped around his bony one with such fragility as if it would break. Ron was not so far away, standing there looking out the open window, his face passive, his stance rigid. It was cold, and the night wind flapped into the infirmary, biting sharply into his skin, but even so, he still did not move.

Hermione raised a hand and gently wiped away a small drop of sweat, her eyes almost empty with feelings, red and swollen from tears. She wished Draco would come back soon, bringing the cure with him and save Harry like he did before.

Snape was here a few hours before, telling them in his crisp and sneering voice that Draco left to go to the Malfoy Manor. All Hermione could do was nodding her thanks to him, but Ron was angry, and had tried to hurt Snape because of his cold disdain towards Harry when he was lying there, seeming broken.

Dead.

Hermione had to restrain him, and Snape awarded his violence with a week of detention, but Ron was too angry to care. She didn't blame Ron, however, because she knew much of his stress was caused by his best friend being near death and all.

After that, they had gone back to their original places, Hermione next to Harry and Ron looking out into the vast sky.

Hermione stopped crying sometime ago, finding that her tears wouldn't flow, and then, she resolved to thinking.

She thought about her first day here at Hogwarts, awed and friendless. She thought about Ron, saying horrible things to her because she was smart and he was made a fool in front of the whole Charms class. She thought about Harry, with his care-free smile and innocent laugh.

But that was back then, when they were eleven and knew too little about reality and death, living in their own fantasies and dreams. Now... now all she could think of was Harry and the painful future that will be if Draco chose to leave him.

Hermione closed her eyes, tired and restless. She loved Harry, like a sister loving her brother, like a mother to her child, like a friend to a friend. She thought about it many times before, wondering why she loved him and what was there to love. She didn't know the answer, but whenever she was with Harry, she just knew the special, magical feeling that made her so protective of him. She knew Harry didn't need to be protect, having being alone perfectly fine for years, not to mention facing the most powerful of Dark wizards in centuries, but still, she felt that if she didn't love Harry - wasn't possessive of him - then no one else will.

She was proven to be wrong, however, and Hermione was glad, for once, to be wrong.

At first, when Harry told her that he liked Draco Malfoy, she was very much disturbed. Well, who wouldn't be? The Great, Famous Harry Potter of the wizarding world liked Draco Malfoy, his hated rival whose father was a Death Eater and Voldemort's right hand man. If she had told anyone they'd have laughed at her. Hermione thought that it was just the loss of memories that brought him the confused intimating feeling, but as she watched Harry, observed him as days passed, she realized that it wasn't so.

The way Harry looked at Draco, his rapt attention to every movement, word, look; his lingering gazes and dazed, dreamy expression told her many things that she has misplaced before, where it was buried within the pits of hatred.

How could she have been so stupid - so _blind_ not to see the intense sparks that burst from their eyes whenever they looked at each other? How could she not see the way their actions spoke clearly than what the eyes see? Why didn't she see it?

Then what? What would she do if she had realized it before? Try to prevent what has been sleeping at depths of their hearts from happening? Letting Harry know about his feelings? Or go and tell other people? What good would it do if she were to comprehend it?

Nothing.

It was best to leave things the way they are, because they will naturally come to place and result in a final, blissful ending.

Hermione looked at Harry's sleeping face, the hollow of his cheeks and the dark marks under his eyes.

Was this the deserved ending for them both?

Or was this just the beginning of a hopeless love in the darkest hours of night?

P.a.R.t.T.h.I.r.T.y.S.i.X.d.O.n.E

The wind bit his skin mercilessly as he listened to the howls of mysterious creatures outside the castle, mixed with the dreadful silence of the infirmary.

It was cold, yes, to the point where one would have frozen to death, but with the burning heat of anger and deep, agonizing emotions running high in his veins, it was hard to feel anything physically at all.

The Forbidden Forest faced him, a stretch of black and green hunched together, and spurt from within it were many terrible echoes that corrupted the minds of innocence.

Ron used to be really afraid of the Forbidden Forest, with its frightful darkness and unknown enemies, hiding, waiting for the moment when his vulnerability was exposed and open for their dark, ruthless attacks.

Now, the thing that he was afraid the most was losing Harry.

Harry has always been like a little brother to Ron, despite the fact that he'd never expressed his feelings. He has known the brave green-eyed boy for such a long time now that it would be so very excruciating and unbelievable if he was gone from the world.

__

No, Ron thought grimly and stubbornly, _Harry would be alright. That Malfoy would come back with the cure, otherwise I'll kill him with my own hands_.

The thought was weak without conviction, and Ron sighed, leaning towards the sky above. He'd never felt more helpless and angry in his life. Watching his best friend, the one that had held everyone's spirit up and smiled encouragingly in the darkest hour, now wilting away like the last leave of autumn about to fall, crumbling onto the brown earth and letting go of its forever remembered beauty.

There was once, in their sixth year, when Harry was badly injured after a Quidditch game against the Slytherins, and had to stay in the infirmary for a week. Ron had visited Harry, and saw the state his best friend was in. Madame Pomfrey informed them that Harry had three ribs broken, his arm dislocated, a deep bruise that was cut almost to the bone on his right thigh, and a bad hit on the head because of the fall.

At that time, Harry looked very broken, like a doll, and Ron wanted to cry for his friend, but he couldn't, because Hermione was already very distraught, and he had to be strong for both of them.

They had stayed overnight, since Madame Pomfrey couldn't remove them from their spots, so Professor Dumbledore decided to bend the rule a little. Hermione was long asleep, her head resting on his shoulder, but Ron had stayed awake, looking at Harry. He had thought that Harry wouldn't wake up, but Harry did.

Harry had opened his eyes and smiled at Ron in that tired, determined, Harry-ish way, and said, "I bet you were worrying about me, aren't you? Well, don't you worry, there's no way I'm going to die a virgin."

Ron could only stare at Harry then, wondering in disbelief how Harry could just laugh at death like that, and he realized...

He realized that Harry was fighting, and even though hope seemed very thin and far, it didn't matter. All that mattered was that he must fight until his last breath was drawn.

But now Harry didn't wake up. He didn't open his eyes. He didn't smile and he didn't move. He couldn't reassure Ron that he would be okay. He didn't... he couldn't...

Ron's shoulders shook violently, and his shaky hand raised to press against his face. He truly didn't know what he could do. He didn't even know if that Malfoy would really going to save Harry, or would he leave Harry here to die. Malfoy wasn't trustworthy... yet he was the one who could prevent Harry's death, so Ron had to leave the matter in that... that... snake's hands.

There was no other choice.

Ron closed his eyes, and hoped for the best.

P.a.R.t.T.h.I.r.T.y.S.e.V.e.N.d.O.n.E

Shadows crept across the walls, gently watching the Malfoy heir in their own, silent way. Draco moved about like a cat, graceful and quiet as he scanned each shelf, looking for the one that labeled _Poisonous Insects and Plants_. It didn't take long, and soon Draco was gathering whichever books that seemed the most likely to have a color chart in it and made way over to the window. There, under the sickly colored moonlight, Draco flipped open the book and scanned the index. The bottle of blood held in one hand, he checked for the color. None matched, and Draco moved on to the next one. It wasn't long until Draco finished shifting through his chosen books, and to his frustration, not one of the colors in all the charts corresponded to the blood in the vial.

Determined and unfazed, Draco continued to search the bookshelf, his heart pounding in his ear so loud that he nearly missed the short, whispered words snaking through the air.

"_Welcome home, Draco_."

The blood ran cold in his body, and Draco stood there for a long moment, paralyzed by fear.

Eventually Draco's mouth began to work, and he managed to croak out, "Hello, father," before turning around to face the dark figure of Lucius Malfoy.

----*** I wanted to stop right here, but then that would be too cruel, wouldn't it?;) ***----

Lucius looked just like the last time Draco saw him: pale figure against stark darkness, giving him an ethereal glow. Long, tidy blond hair flowing about his shoulders, and the hard, frosted silver eyes that pierced through his soul. This was his father, Lucius Malfoy.

Draco held his ground, all kinds of thoughts and ideas came to his mind. Should he run? Should he say something to cover up the real reason why he was here? But before he could say anything, Lucius had spoken.

"This is quite a pleasant surprise, Draco, I wasn't expecting you."

Draco felt a moment of hesitation taking hold of him. Could it be that his father did not know of his intention? But no, Draco argued with himself, there was no way he couldn't know. Blaise must have told him everything. Anger surged in him. _The traitor_.

With a rush of courage that burst in him so suddenly that he was surprised, Draco answered his father with the complete truth, "I'm here to get the cure for the poison."

Lucius looked mildly surprised, but his expression did not darken, nor did he show any sign of anger. "The cure for the poison?" he wondered mockingly. "Now, what poison could you be talking about?"

Draco clenched his fists, willing down his rising anger. His father was ridiculing him, and he hated it. "You know exactly what I'm talking about, _father_," he grounded out, his gray eyes now a shade of silver under the moonlight. "I know you used Blaise to poison Harry."

The amusement in Lucius' eyes was lost as quick as a flame flickering out of life. A numbed chill spread in Draco's heart unexpectedly, and he watched as his father took a step closer. "Harry," Lucius repeated, the word rolling off his tongue slowly, as if he couldn't believe what his son was saying. "You called him Harry." Lucius stared down at Draco, and in the dim like, he looked like a creature of the dark, powerful and frightening.

Panic took over him, and Draco wondered briefly how he could even think about defying his father, of all people. Then, self-hatred replaced his fear, and Draco questioned himself, again, why he kept making his decision just to be inundated over by fear.

That was cowardice. That was him, and Draco hated it, hated it so much. He hated it to be a part of him, and he was determined to get rid of it. Even if this killed him, even if he was to die here and never see Harry again, he at least knew that he has a purpose, and that purpose was not chosen by anyone else but himself.

"Yes, I called him Harry," Draco replied calmly, mind and heart as blank as a sheet of paper, "because I love him."

Lucius' eyes flashed, and without time to think Draco found his father's staff pressed against his throat, the open mouth of the serpent digging deeply into his tender skin. Then, Lucius dragged the head of the serpent up to Draco's neck, the sharp fangs pierced his skin apart and left a trail of blood to flow down to his dark cloak. Lucius tilted Draco's head up, and the blond stared at his father squarely in the eyes, his own held no fear nor submission. No, he was looking at his father with defiance and will.

Lucius held eyes with his son for a long time, but Draco refused to turn away, and the older man's patience broke.

With a cry Draco fell back, his head colliding with the leg of the table, shaking it and flinging the books on the table to fly down to the floor. A stabbing pain blurred his vision momentarily, and Draco shook it away, ignoring the warm blood streaming down his face. Pulling himself together, Draco made to stand up, but another blow across his shoulder sent him sprawling on the cold floor.

Draco whipped his head round, glaring at the man he called father.

"If you were not the Malfoy's only heir, I will not hesitate to kill you right now," Lucius said perniciously.

__

Malfoy's only heir...

Deafness washed over him for a little while, and with much effort Draco croaked out, "Is that all I am to you?" Why was his voice so shaky? Why was there a blurring pain behind his eyes? "Just someone who will carry on the family's name?"

Lucius sneered disgustedly. "It looks a bit doubtful now, as you're in love with _Harry_."

The words rolled in his mind as if anaesthesia had taken hold of him. All this time, his father only saw him as a tool, someone who would produce a heir and bring forth the next generation of the Malfoys'. Draco suddenly felt exposed and alone, and an urge to laugh rose in his throat.

How ironic. Ever since he was little he had looked up to his father, wanting to be everything like him, _believing_ his words and actions were for Draco's own goods, never doubting for one minute his father cared for him.

Draco'd never felt more stupid in his life, or more angry.

Coolly he stood up, dusting his robes as if he had all the time in the world, then looked directly at his father. "You're right, I won't carry on the family's name. I'm going to live with Harry until I die."

Lucius smirked. "Don't count on it, boy, because you won't be leaving this place any time soon. At least, not until I make sure Potter is dead."

Draco's eyes turned black. "Then go ahead and try."

P.a.R.t.T.h.I.r.T.y.E.i.G.h.T.d.O.n.E

The dungeon was cold, as always, and dark. The empty hallway was robbed of all lights, and even though it was daytime, not even the largest window could bring some ray of sunlight down to this dungeon, not that the place has any window.

On the right, third corridor down, a door to a small room was left slight ajar, revealing a dim lit interior.

Next to the door, a large shelf was placed, holding all kinds of jars and vials of different species' limbs, or, for great displeasure to the eyes, interior organs.

On the other side of the door, two bookshelves stood against each other, complete of books about potions and healing plants, as well as some other books on dangerous ingredients and their uses. A large portion of books on the second shelf was missing, and they were found on the wooden desk, opened and scattered messily over the surface.

A glowing light hung on the air as if by magic, and peering over the books under it was a man clad in black robes, dark hair falling over his face as he flipped through the book and rereading everything he'd memorized from many years of Potions study.

This was Severus Snape, the Potions Master.

Another book was cast aside and he continued with, once again, his next book, but that proved to be useless, and so did the next one and the one after that. Soon, Severus grew frustrated, and with a growl he pushed his texts away, letting them fall to the floor heedlessly. He had spent all his time researching all the books he'd read countless times before to see if he had misplaced something and if it would help to cure Potter, but his effort seemed, so far, to be in vain. He was tired, stretched to the point he couldn't even close his eyes even though his mind was screaming in demand for some sleep. Severus could take this, after all, it wasn't his first time staying awake for three days straight.

Draco had left yesterday afternoon, and it was nearly lunch time now, yet the blond was no where to be seen. Severus' troubled mind was now coming up with possible threats of what'd happened his favorite student as well as godson, and the greater possibility of what would occur if Draco did not come back.

There wasn't just two lives they were dealing with here, it was lives of thousands people over the world hanging in the balance if Potter died. It was another worry altogether, one which none of whom that knew about the Prophecy could forget. This was Potter's final year at Hogwarts. 'The year that will decide all,' as Severus used to sarcastically commented. Now he couldn't think of a more fitting description.

Only one will come out of this year victorious, and Severus' hope on Potter grew dim as time seemed to fly by quicker than he could have imagined. Voldemort was gaining more followers and his power was growing powerful as days passed. The throbbing of the Dark Mark would never let him forget that, a bitter memory of his rash choice, decided out of anger, hatred, and pain, all of which that brought him to his many rues in his later days.

He could only hope those blasted emotions wouldn't bring Draco down like they did to him.

Severus knew the boy well. He knew Draco was capable of achieving something greater than what his father had laid out for him, and he also knew that Draco loved his father more than anyone in this world, his main weakness. Severus couldn't tell Draco the truth about Lucius, because the boy would not listen, and it may caused an awkwardness between them, something Severus would not risk. Draco was the closest he had to a family, and not even death could tear him away from the blond. He vowed to protect his godson until he'd drawn his last breath, and he would live up to that promise.

And yet, even now, he was stupid enough to allow Draco to step into the lion's den himself, without protection or trustworthy companion.

What, exactly, had driven him to let Draco go like that? Severus wondered heatedly. There was no way Draco could make out of the Malfoy Manor alive. Artemis Lovegood was not someone to trust, despite her innocent, carefree appearance.

Severus knew her ever since she was a little girl. Even though coming from a family of Gryffindors, Artemis was sorted into Slytherin and associated with the Malfoys when she was at least eight years old. It wasn't clear as to how she came to be friends with Draco, or how she was even permitted in the Malfoy Manor in the first place, but ever since she was little, she was as quiet and cunning as any Slytherin should be. Although that was the case, she had never joined with the other housemates in their scheming against the Gryffindors. There was something about her, the dangerous air and dark gaze she possessed that deceived and lured all into her trap. Artemis was a girl of destruction, and Severus had let Draco walk into his destruction himself.

Even so, he knew the real reason why he let Draco go. It was apparent that the boy wanted to save Potter, like he did once, months ago. He wasn't sure why Draco was so set on doing just that, but Draco was not someone who acted rashly for no good reason.

And what was Draco's definition of a good reason for walking right into death and defying his father? It couldn't be that he suddenly decided to renounce his loyalty and join the Orders, because Draco was under his father's power of manipulation for years, so the other reason, once again, was Potter.

He couldn't think of a good explanation as to why Draco would want to save the boy. They had been bitter rivals for years, Severus knew, and Draco hated Potter with a passion beyond their comprehension. Why the change? Why now? What could Draco achieve by saving Potter? Was this another ingenious plot by Lucius Malfoy? But no, it couldn't be, for all that Draco was, he couldn't lie to Severus if his life depended on it. Then, it must be the matter of the heart. Something in his mind clicked into place, and Severus cursed.

Of course, it was so apparent. Severus saw the change in Draco's look, ever since last year, even though the boy didn't realize it yet. The slight glance he would give Potter whenever they were in the same room, the mistaken hatred in his voice during one of their verbal fights. It was impossible, unimaginable that the son of Lucius Malfoy has fallen for his family's enemy, the enemy of Voldemort, and now he was risking his life for it.

Severus found himself, once again, wishing that his cover had not been blown and he was still one of Voldemort's so-called faithful servant. At least then he would have a good reason to visit the Malfoy Manor and somehow help Draco into getting what he wanted.

A shudder breath escaped his lips, and Severus, for the first time in ages, felt a sting behind his eyes. It took him a while to realize what it was, and when he did, anger replaced confusion. Shutting his eyes tight he told himself over and over that this was not the time to despair. There was hope left. If he went to Dumbledore now, perhaps something could be gain through all these foolish acts.

Determined and grim, Severus stood up and made way to the door. He had delayed too long, now was the time to take action.

It was at that very moment that the air shifted, and a soundly 'thud' was heard.

Spinning around at the direction of the sound Severus' hand grabbed his wand, lying under his robes. But when his eyes fell on the other figure in the room, he dropped his wand, and all coherent thought was gone.

Draco, broken and bleeding, lay there under the fading light, his dull, lifeless eyes staring up at him. Severus watched, unable to move, as Draco's cracked and dry lips opened, and his mouth formed the raspy words "I failed."

P.a.R.t.T.h.I.r.T.y.N.i.n.E.D.o.N.e

c h a p t e r . S I X . e n d...

* to be continued in chapter 7 - the regret *

* * *

A/N: Finally! After a really long and hard work of getting rid of my writer's block, I am finished with this chapter! This, I must say, is probably the hardest chapter I've written so far. I spent numerous of time mulling over what to write about Hermione and Ron's thoughts, and also what Lucius is plotting. Unfortunately, this story is going to fall into the Angst Pit. Yes, the most horrifying thing ever is about to happen! Although, once again, it will have a happy ending, with Draco and Harry living happily ever after with lots of kids like angels... er... maybe not the last part, but don't you just wish it will turn out like that, though?

Anyway, many apologies and flowers to Blaise-lovers, but it was relevant, because his death plays an important part into saving Harry. Sorry!

Sadly to say, there are about three chapters left until the end, and I thank all of you who's been supporting MoM. **I am terribly sorry if there's any mistake in the information or grammar or spelling**. I hope you enjoy this chapter and do leave me a comment, criticism, or a yelling (for whatever thing that you don't like about this fic.) A writer do love to know if her work is appreciated or not. Love to all *hugs*


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